


Tomorrow Never Comes

by Nicci



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Canon Crossover, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-12
Updated: 2011-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-15 14:43:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 54,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/161850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicci/pseuds/Nicci
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A renegade-Q vows vengeance on a couple of Starfleet captains, one of which shouldn't even be alive.  Old friends and new ones meet and with a little Q interaction, things are bound to get wildly out of hand.  Spock must travel back in time to rescue his old captain from the Nexus, where he has been trapped for nearly 80 years.  If he fails, it could mean the end of life as we know it.</p><p>This story is set in two time periods, it begins during the time period in which Next Generation is set, and goes back in time to right after the first part of the film Generations.  A good knowledge of both the film, and the characters from both next gen and the original series would help the reader to understand what's going on in the fic.</p><p>This story is complete - I will upload all the chapters over the course of a few weeks when I find time to do so</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Board is Set

Eisn's fiery orb hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows over the valley. It was a cool evening for this late in summer, the purple tinged clouds warning of a storm to come. A light wind had sprung up from the north, catching at the boys' long sleeves and serving to remind him again of how impractical they were. He paused in his work of loading the ground car to look up at the rainbow hues of his world's sky.

Would this be the last time he saw a sunset on ch'Rihan? The thought filled him both with despair and fear. He had never wanted to travel off planet, the Universe held no particular fascination for him, and he had absolutely no desire to mix with aliens from other worlds. Everything he wanted was right here. Despondently he returned to his task.

As he worked, he recalled the events that had lead him to this moment. Coming home from his studies that afternoon, he had been thinking about his father, something he did more often these days. The man was almost a stranger to him, his work keeping him off planet for years at a time, and when he did deign to visit, he was cold and distant towards his son. Recently he had been home more often. That, coupled with the boys growing maturity and independence, had caused certain conflicts.

Now aged 17, Ashan was ready to make his own way in the world, and his father's presence at home only made him more determined to leave. He had decided to enter the military. His father would, of course, disapprove of his decision, and to be honest, he really did not want to be a soldier, but the job would take him away from home - and the brooding, uncommunicative man who visited them so little. Ashan had given up trying to gain his approval years ago. All he wanted now was to be free from his disapproving looks. The fact that he would miss his mother terribly was something he would just have to deal with.

By the time he had reached the door to their house, Ashan was angry. He had barely even greeted his mother, when the communication panel lit up with an incoming message. Ashan had glanced at the code and recognised it as his fathers. With an apologetic smile, his mother had taken the call in private as she always did. Ashan had never told her how much that annoyed him. It was like a slap in the face, being excluded from the family like that. When she emerged from the bedchamber a few moments later, her face was pale and haunted. She would not tell him what was wrong - only that they were leaving ch'Rihan - now.

Sighing, he focused on his task again. The last travel bag was proving to be difficult. Already there was barely room in the ground car for the pilot and passenger. He tried the bag several ways before finally thumping it down at his feet.

"I hope that one contained no breakables?"

He spun to face his mother. She was carrying several more bags, which Ashan pointed at and sighing said, "There's no more room mother. Not if you want to take me too?"

She nodded resignedly and turned back to the house still laden. When her husband had contacted her, he had told her to pack only essentials, and her son was definitely an essential. What do I need with clothes anyway? She thought.

Ashan fell into step beside her and gently relieved her of her physical burden. Her mental burden would be hers alone to shoulder, at least for a while longer. She studied him from the corner of her eye as they walked towards the house. He often appeared distracted and annoyed these days so his scowling visage held no surprises for her, but knowing that she was the cause of his latest mood filled her with sorrow. Perhaps it would have been wiser to remain silent, but she could not ignore her child's pain.

"My son, you seem unusually belligerent today." From the corner of her eye she watched as both his finely sculpted eyebrows shot into his hairline. They had reached the house and he was holding open the door for her (if nothing else the boy's manners were impeccable). She sighed as she stepped past him and thought He will not be put off much longer. It would appear that the onus of explanation falls to me yet again.

It came even sooner than she expected. The door slammed shut behind them and he rounded on her angrily. "Mother - where are we going? Why are we leaving like this? When are you going to tell me what's going on?"

She rubbed a delicate finger over her temple and sighed. Already the room was beginning to darken as the Rihannsu sun set. She took his arm and guided him into the family room where she busied herself plumping up cushions on the low couch.

Ashan remained in the centre of the room still laden with heavy bags, and waited for her to speak. He knew she was afraid, although fear was not an emotion he had seen in his mother's eyes very often. Eventually she faced him again and said quietly, "Your father will be here shortly, he will explain everything."

"All things considered, I'd rather hear it from you."

She stiffened at his tone. It was the same old story. The barely concealed animosity Ashan felt for his father crackled between them like electricity. She could not blame her son for feeling the way he did, but nor could she blame her husband.

"Ashan, you don't give him a chance...."

"The man is a stranger to me - I don't see him often enough to give him a chance. "

"His work....!"

"I know, I know his work has kept him away. Mother - I am 17 years old. I have seen my father perhaps 5 times. How can his work be so important to him that he visits his family so rarely? Besides.... even when he is here - I always feel like he's looking down at me. As if I can't do anything right."

She took the bags from his unresisting fingers and dropped them on the floor. Gently she guided him to the sofa and they sat in silence for a moment. Finally she took a deep breath and fixing him with an intent look she said, "Your father is proud of you my son. He has difficulty expressing himself sometimes."

Ashan shot to his feet and began pacing the small room. "Not with you he doesn't. Mother - tell me what's going on - please."

Just then they heard the sound of the front door opening. "He's here. Ashan, I think you had better sit down."

 

  


Captain Jean Luc Picard of the Starship Enterprise NCC1701-D, sat beneath the warm yellow glow of the standard lamp and closed the photograph album with a thump. He looked around the room in which he sat. If he concentrated hard enough, he could almost hear the sound of Rene's childish laughter coming from the barn. Picard sighed. The horrific events of the last three weeks would give him no peace.

First there was the loss of his brother and nephew in the fire, then his ship had been destroyed and 17 members of his crew had died. The trip back from Veridian III to Earth, and his detailed report to the Admiralty had taken nearly three weeks, in which time the majority of the damage done to the house had been repaired. He had thought that coming here might help put some of his personal ghosts to rest, but the emotional wounds were still too raw.

It had been a mistake to come back here. Then there was the terrible guilt he felt over the death of James Kirk. Somehow, of all the deaths, Kirk's haunted him the most. Perhaps because he had actually witnessed it, or perhaps because it was at his insistence that Kirk had even been there on Veridian III. The responsibility weighed heavily upon him.

Picard got up and roamed the room like a caged tiger. He became aware of the quiet drone of a newscaster's voice coming from the com unit. The awful, echoing silence in the house had caused Picard to turn on the broadcast just to have some reassuring background noise, but now the monotone drone was merely annoying. He reached to switch the unit off but something the newsreader was saying stopped him. Instead, he turned the sound up. The voice was talking in a pleasant, matter of fact voice but Picard felt his blood run cold.

The new Hard line Romulan government is believed to have been responsible for the deaths of at least 30 alleged Federation Spies. Our sources within the Empire have indicated that this new regime intends to eradicate all threats to their continued control. It is believed that the 30 casualties were members of The Romulan Underground Movement, which has, in recent months, been a vocal minority on the subject of Unification. The Vulcan High Council remains unavailable for comment....

Picard clicked off the viewer and sat down heavily on a chair still staring at the now blank screen. Quickly, he tapped in his Starfleet clearance code and began making a series of calls. Eventually he was connected to the office of Admiral Joshua Landsbury. The ruddy faced, elderly man was an old friend from his Academy days and a good source of unofficial information.

"Sorry to disturb you Josh - I hope you're not too busy?"

Landsbury ran a hand through his mop of unruly silver hair and smiled broadly at Picard. "Actually - I don't mind the interruption - I'm trying to write an eulogy for an old Admiral that died a few days ago. Not one of my favourite duties."

"I know what you mean Josh - I wrote my first one for Jack Crusher. It never gets any easier."

"Jesus Jean-Luc - I'm sorry - I didn't think! You must have spent the last three weeks writing letters of condolence."

"No need to apologise Josh, it comes with the job. But as you say - it's not a pleasant duty."

Landsbury smiled sympathetically but Picard did not return his friend's smile. "Josh, I need some information."

The Admiral, suddenly all business, shifted in his seat. "What's up?"

"What information do you have on the last known whereabouts of Ambassador Spock of Vulcan?"

Landsbury was silent for a moment. Folding his arms across his chest, the Admiral leaned forward and fixed his old friend with an intense stare, "Captain, I can't broadcast information like that on an open channel. You know the regulations as well as I do. I simply can't tell you where the Vulcan is headed."

Picard smiled slightly. So far so good but he needed more, "Sorry sir - I read you loud and clear. How's your wife?"

"She's fine. She's visiting relatives right now but I expect her home in about three days if all goes well. Anything else I can do for you Jean-Luc?"

"No sir. Thank you. I'm sorry to have bothered you." Picard terminated the communication and sat back with relief. Anyone who knew Josh Landsbury, also knew the man was a confirmed bachelor. His coded message was quite clear - Spock would be on Vulcan in 3 days, and he was OK. Picard was glad his friend had made it out.

 

  


"We're not going to make it," Darneck was frantically tapping commands into the little transport's helm console. The ship lurched violently against the tight course change. The bird of prey swooped down on them from a different angle.

"They're coming around again" The pilot had no time to acknowledge. The dry, computerised voice from the panel in front of him was announcing that the enemy ship had achieved phaser lock. He threw the ship to starboard and overrode safety protocols in order to bring them from sublight to warp speed.

" Are you mad?" cried Darneck, seeing what his friend was trying to do. "You'll tear us to pieces."

Jumping the ship to warp without accelerating through impulse speeds first was an extremely dangerous manoeuvre.

Tarrin pulled his hand free from his friends' vice-like grip. He hit the anti-matter inducer button and held on for grim death as the tiny ship tried to fly itself apart. A second later they were streaming through warp space, leaving their pursuers to fire at empty space. In the passenger compartment behind him, he could hear the sounds of people picking themselves up from the floor. No time to check on them now. He fed a new set of co-ordinates into his console and looked at Darneck from the corner of his eye.

"They're faster than us. It's only a matter of time before they catch up. We'd better do some fancy evasive manoeuvres."

Darneck was sweating profusely. He glanced down at the co-ordinates that had been transferred to his navigation's console. "These co-ordinates will take us.....into Federation space."

Tarrin nodded slowly. "I'm betting they wont follow us once we cross the neutral zone."

"May all your bets pay off" said Darneck in a tight voice.

 

  


"Captains Personal Log, Stardate 4420.6. I have just received some verra sad news. Doctor McCoy is dead."

Captain Montgomery Scott paused in the dictation of his log to wipe his hand roughly over his face

"I saw him barely a month ago on Earth, and knew this moment would come soon, and yet I find myself unprepared for it. I suppose I've just been avoiding it these last few weeks."

After leaving Picard's Enterprise in his borrowed Starfleet Shuttle, Scotty had spent 18 months acquainting himself with the 24th century and its miraculous technology. His unique knowledge of 100 years of engineering technology had lead, six months ago, to Starfleet asking him to re-enlist. As many of the newer Federation worlds still used antiquated technology, Scotty was to be an Independent Engineering Consultant, helping to integrate the old with the new.

It was a rewarding and worthwhile job, but to Scotty, the best part about the job was his new ship. As he was required to warp all over the quadrant, Starfleet had given him a Dante-Class Runabout, which he had proudly named the Nova Scotia.

A little under a month ago, whilst attending a briefing session on Earth, Scotty had finally plucked up the courage to visit Leonard McCoy. He had been told how ill the Admiral was, and had thought himself prepared. McCoy was 144. A very old man, and one very tired of living.

" Perhaps I should have taken Picard's advice and left well enough alone. Ach who am I kidding - I could no more hae done that than fitted faulty Antimatter Inducers to ma own engines. But still - it was a shock to see McCoy in that hospital - he was so ....old. I always thought he would be attending my funeral one day. After all I am.....I mean I was 5 years his senior."

Scott stared through the front view port of his tiny shuttle and tried to compose himself. "They tell me the memorial service will be in 4 days. I've contacted Captain Picard and he hopes to be able to attend. It will be nice to see him again - although I could have wished for better circumstances. I am heading back to Earth at warp 2. The Nova is having a few engine problems and I don't want to tax her too much. ETA 2.3 days."

Scott switched off the recorder and listened intently to the faint vibration only discernible to a very good engineer. He patted the console in front of him tenderly "Take it easy Lass, we've got plenty o'time"

 

  


"Direct hit, starboard engine. Warp core will go critical in....3 minutes." Darneck, shouted over the ear-piercing red alert siren and the noise of super-compressed gases leaking into space from a hull breach. "Emergency forcefields in place, life support stabilised. Tarrin - we have to jettison the warp nacelle"

Tarrin checked the sensors. They had just crossed the neutral zone but the bird of prey was still closing. If he did as his friend suggested, they would be sitting ducks, and if he didn't......?

Darneck was watching the bird of prey closing in for the kill. Her wing configuration changed subtly as she swooped down like a giant eagle. These ships were very well named.

"We almost did it." Darneck whispered softly as the tinny computer announced, "Warning, enemy vessel has phaser lock"

Tarrin sighed. He had done everything he could. There was no shame in failure when your opponent proved superior. He instructed the computer to release the damaged nacelle and watched as it drifted away. A bolt of blue lightning shot out from the bird of prey, and Darneck squeezed his eyes shut.

But death did not come. The free-floating nacelle was the bird of preys target. The shock wave from the exploding anti-matter threw their tiny vessel violently to starboard. The emergency siren began to wail again as the computer catalogued the fresh damage. So - they intend to kill us by degrees, thought Tarrin. It is their right.

The viewscreen showed the bird of preys' phaser ports glow blue as she powered up for another shot. She was hanging in space a few hundred kilometres ahead of them. Without warning the huge ship vectored off to starboard and sped back towards the neutral zone. Within a few seconds, she had engaged the warp drive and was gone. "What ....?" Tarrin frowned at the viewscreen then gasped as a Federation Starship glided into view. "How in the Praetor's name did we miss that?"

Darneck rubbed the back of his hand over his forehead "I suppose we had other things to think about," he said softly as he opened a hailing frequency. A deep resonant voice issued from the speaker.

"This is Captain Carl Leighton of the Starship Columbia, do you require assistance?"

Tarrin turned to the man who had just appeared beside them from the passenger compartment. He raised an eyebrow. The man reached past him and touched the com panel with long, delicate fingers.

"Captain Leighton, this is Ambassador Spock of Vulcan. We do indeed require assistance".

On board the Columbia, the Captain shot out of his command chair and gasped.


	2. Homecoming

Montgomery Scott had learned some heavy duty swearwords in his long and distinguished career as a Starfleet Engineer. He was employing several of his favourite ones right now. Despite his gentle coaxing, his ships coolant systems had just gone off-line. Continuing under these circumstances would result in the engines going critical in a matter of minutes. He checked his navigational console. 1.3 parsecs outside Vulcan Space. Scotty huffed loudly. If he had to make an unscheduled stop off on his way to Earth, he could think of at least 120 planets he would have preferred over Vulcan in mid-summer.

"Well there's nothin' else for it." Jabbing the communications toggle a touch harshly, Scott put out a distress call to the nearest ship in the vicinity.

An hour later, Scotty stood on a maintenance platform at Vulcan Space Central, grumbling despondently at the Vulcan engineer currently examining his ship. According to Selkar, it would take a week to repair the ship, perhaps longer if Scotty kept insisting on 'helping'. From long experience, Scott knew there was no point acting offended by a Vulcan's literalism, but he was offended.

He began pacing the platform until the engineer shut the panel he had been examining with a thump. Scott could barely conceal his delight at having rattled the Vulcan's calm exterior. Selkar took a moment to compose himself before standing and facing the grinning Human.

"I have, against all the odds, completed my evaluation of your vessel Captain Scott. The coolant system will not take long to repair, but as I surmised, the replicator systems are contaminated. The work cannot be done in less than one week "

Scott's face fell. Even in this century, assuming he had the right tools for the job, Scotty could have fixed his ship's coolant system in a few hours, but the contamination caused by the coolant leak required a complete systems overhaul. He simply didn't have time to do the work himself.

Scott rested his hand on the shuttle's side and sighed. The memorial service for McCoy was in three days. If he booked passage on a liner, he could easily make it to Earth and back in a week. He turned to the Vulcan Engineer and tried a small half smile.

"Alright laddie, there's nae a thing else I can do. Will ye be looking after her yersel?"

The Vulcan nodded.

"Well then I suppose she'll be in good hands." Selkar expressed his surprise in customary Vulcan fashion with a raised eyebrow. Scotty patted his ships gleaming hull gently.

"I'll be back in no time"

And with that, he turned and began to climb down the access ladder. Before he had reached the ground, he noticed a very young human landing technician running across the hanger towards him. Panting slightly, the boy offered Scotty a helping hand which the engineer stonily ignored saying only, "I'm not dead yet son."

Scott stepped carefully down onto the floor and pushed past the boy.

"Sir - I have instructions to take you straight to customs. It's this way Sir" The flustered boy hesitated by the exit marked Arrivals and Scott turned to fix the young man with an icy glare.

"Someone wants rid o'me in a hurry?"

The boy looked very embarrassed, "No Sir - Security are clearing the whole docking area Sir".

When Scott remained rooted to the spot, the technician shrugged, " Word has it that a ship is on its way in. Something-top secret and I have orders to report back here in three minutes. "

Scott favoured the harassed technician with one of his famous Celtic smiles. "Say no more son. You run on along tae yer post. I can get to customs under ma own sails."

"I'm supposed to go with you Sir"

"Our little secret then. Go on son, ye have 2 minutes and 12 seconds left" The youth licked his dry lips and turned uncertainly towards the dock. "Well if you're sure.....?"

"Go on lad. I know ma way around just fine."

Shrugging resignedly, the young man jogged off down the corridor leaving Montgomery Scott alone by the exit. He turned and walked about three steps before realising that he had no idea where he was going. The Vulcans had obviously made some changes to the layout over the past few months.

Scott looked back the way he had just come. Curiosity was getting the better of him. Checking out the secret ship coming into Vulcan Space Central might be a welcome diversion for the engineer. And there was still plenty of time to arrange his transport to Earth. Rubbing his hands together, Scott ducked back into the Main Dock area and arranged himself out of sight to wait.

  


It had not taken Picard long to make the decision to go to Vulcan. Reasoning that Spock might need his support with the Vulcan High Council, he had spent the last three days tying up loose ends and making preparations. While he did not have the clout of an Admiral, Picard still had many powerful and influential friends on Vulcan. After locking up the house, Jean Luc decided to take one last walk in his brother's vineyard before leaving.

The sky was particularly blue today, only a couple of white fluffy clouds passed overhead as he stood amidst the burgeoning vines taking in lung-fulls of the clear fresh air. Even now, surrounded by such peace and serenity, the Captain could not quite forget the events that had brought him here. This place contained only memories of the past for him. Picard needed to concentrate on the future now.

As he turned towards the house once more, he saw a man standing in the middle of the path he had just walked down. Picard did not recognise him, but felt a shiver travel down his spine at the look in the other man's eyes.

"Good afternoon Captain Picard. Beautiful day is it not?"

The Captain nodded and tried to return the stranger's smile. "Indeed. You have me at a disadvantage sir"

"How terribly observant of you"

Suddenly the world around Picard dissolved into a blinding flash of light. He threw his arm up to shade his eyes, then the world went black. He had the disconcerting feeling that he was falling into a void.

The next thing he remembered was regaining consciousness in a dank, foul smelling prison cell. His hands were firmly chained to the cold stone wall, as were his feet and already the cold metal restraints had cut into the soft flesh of his wrists. Apart from the plash of water dripping from the ceiling, there was no sound. Picard did not struggle beyond testing the strength of his chains and when an hour of shouting went unanswered, he lapsed into silence, listening intently for a hint of his location but all he heard was drip....drip.....drip.......drip

  


The tiny transport ship seemed to sigh with relief when the tractor beam of Vulcan Space Central locked onto it. The ship had been quite badly damaged in the firefight. It was a miracle that it had escaped Romulan Space at all, far less make it to Vulcan - even with the help of the Columbia. Tarrin realised that his fingers were locked like claws onto the controls. He carefully cracked his knuckles.

Next to him at the navigation console, Darneck let go of the breath he had been holding for a considerable time in a loud rush. He turned towards the back of the small ship.

"We're on automatic now. Is everyone OK back there?"

Spock was dabbing blood from a cut above Seleya's left eye. He paused in his ministrations to scan the other passengers. "We seem to have suffered only cuts and bruises. No major injuries apparent. May I congratulate you on you piloting skills."

Tarrin snorted and turned back to his console. Darneck winced as he climbed out of his seat. His shoulder felt like it was dislocated. He glanced quickly at their Vulcan passenger, but he was too occupied with helping the others to notice Darneck's failure to control the pain. He had tried to learn the techniques Spock used almost instinctively, but he was still many years away from achieving even the most basic level. Still - one must persevere in order to succeed.

He clambered over the pile of crates and boxes that had managed to dislodge themselves during their flight, and began his own appraisal of the passengers conditions.

Spock and the boy Ashan seemed unhurt. Seleya's cut had already stopped bleeding. Tomar was bending and flexing his ankle cautiously. The final passenger, Lorea worried Daneck the most. She was still clutching the headrest of the chair in front of her and staring into space. He noted the deep pallor and shallow breathing. He was not a doctor but he could recognise shock when he saw it. Gently he began to pry her fingers from the headrest.

They all felt the soft thump as the battered ship set down on the landing platform. Tarrin appeared at the door. "Spock?"

Straightening, the Vulcan nodded and reached for the emergency door override.

  


Scott watched as the Romulan transport ship settled itself onto the landing pad. He could see now why the Vulcan's had cleared the area. This was dammed suspicious. He pressed himself closer to the Plexiglas window and craned his neck to get a better view. As the door began to open, a medical team hurried into the landing area and several armed guards piled in behind them. Scott watched as the first Romulan climbed out the hatch.

Recognition hit the engineer like a fist. It couldn't be? He frowned in confusion. Could it? The familiar form stopped at the foot of the ramp and turned to help the other passengers disembark. One of them, a young boy Scott judged to be about 17 or 18 years old, seemed unwilling to accept the proffered hand causing the tall man to raise a speculative eyebrow.

Even at this distance, there was no mistaking Spock. Scott smiled broadly as the passengers were herded out of sight. Quickly he turned and headed towards the door.

Scott had tried to make contact with Spock months ago but none of his new friends in Starfleet had been able to help locate the Vulcan. He seemed to have disappeared into air thinner than Vulcan's. Scott had no idea how his old friend came to be travelling on a Romulan Transport Ship, but he was damned sure he would find out.

  


The Vulcan High Council remained in session well into the early hours of the morning before finally granting the refugees asylum. So it was late the next morning that Spock returned to his father's house in Shikahr.

The house had not been lived in for nearly 60 years, and had a faint, musty odour despite the environmental shielding which had keep it sealed like a tomb. Spock gazed at the antique Grandfather Clock in the hall. In all the years that Spock had lived here or come back to visit, the clock's reassuring tick had been the first thing to welcome him on coming through the door, but now it was silent and still.

He shivered. After his marriage to Perrin, Sarek had sealed the house, and they had moved to a smaller one in the centre of town. That had been Perrin's decision. She had wanted a new life for them, away from the influence and memory of Amanda. Spock refused to examine his feelings about that. It would serve no purpose.

Letting the travel bags he carried slide from his fingers, he carefully opened the glass door of the clock face and picked up the winding key. A few moments later, the ancient timepiece was ticking once more. Spock felt some of the tension leave him at the familiar and welcoming sound and imagined that suddenly, the house felt a few degrees warmer.

He systematically went through each room, opening the shielding to allow the air circulator to do its job. When he reached the living quarters, he noticed a small red light flashing on the communications console. Strange - no one knew he was here. He activated the message and listened quietly to the familiar yet totally unexpected voice from the past.


	3. Torture

Jean-Luc Picard had been tortured before, and by experts. Out on the frontiers of space, a Starship Captain lived daily with the risk of capture and torture by an enemy. The training given to all command rank personnel was good (and a Starship Captain had more resilience than most) but very few men could hold back information indefinitely. Even the bravest most pig-headed men in the universe had a pain threshold beyond which they could no longer resist.

Picard had passed that threshold hours ago. Since then he had spent a great deal of time semi-conscious. He envied the Deltans and Vulcans their ability to bring instant death upon themselves in situation like this. But his captor was good. He never allowed Picard to cross that particular threshold. And the worst part was - he had as yet made no demands.

The Captain knew that he was nearly broken, he would agree to almost anything if only the torment would stop! In the past few days (or was it weeks - Picard had lost track of time) he had been put through and into every conceivable version of hell that existed and a few that had been made up for the occasion. At first there had been only physical pain, then the mental torture had begun. It was far worse than anything Picard could have imagined.

His captor seemed to be able to reach into his mind and extract the most terrifying scenarios from it, then make the Captain live though these nightmares. He had come out of the last session badly shaken. It had been a nightmare involving a blazing farmhouse, its glass windows shattering under the inferno's heat. There had also been the sound of a young boy screaming but Picard was bound hand and foot and quite unable to move.

Neither was he able to shut out the images and sounds. When the vision had eventually subsided, he was on his knees in his prison cell, sobbing uncontrollably.

He no longer possessed the will to fight. For the moment, he was alone in his cell. He had not noticed the passing of days, the cell had remained dark for his entire incarceration. There were no restraints - he was too weak to move and had no hope of escape. That option had died the moment Picard realised he was being held captive by a member of the Q continuum.

Although the being had not identified himself, Picard's dealings with another Q had given him an insight into how they worked. That other Q had always seemed to consider their interaction some kind of game, but this one was cruel and malevolent. He obviously took perverse pleasure from torturing the Captain but he wanted something, Picard was sure of that. He knew that he was going to die, but he was also being kept alive as long as possible. That thought frightened Picard even more than the idea of dying did.

At that moment his dungeon keeper appeared. There was no flash of light of drum roll, he was simply there. "Still alive Captain? I am impressed. How are you feeling today?"

"Go to hell" Picard spat through clenched teeth.

"Some fight left in you after all Captain? You really are a most interesting creature. Do you still have no idea why I am doing this?"

Jean Luc pulled himself weakly to a sitting position on the hard stone floor. "You hate me, you need revenge, you will kill me, but there is something you want me to see or do first. How am I doing?"

The Q being merely smiled. "Not bad. You possess a keen intellect for so primitive a species Picard. In many ways, it will be a pity to destroy you."

He began to laugh maniacally, and Picard gritted his teeth in preparation for another nightmare to begin. In his mind, he imagined leaping to his feet and strangling the arrogant bastard where he stood - but in reality, he could barely move. The unremitting torture and lack of food and water had taken away his ability to fight back. He slumped back against the cold damp cell wall and waited.


	4. Old Friends

Ashan sat on a low wall at the edge of the city gazing out over Vulcan's Forge. From here, the desert stretched out before him in all its primitive glory, turned crimson by a sun so huge it filled the entire sky. Or so it seemed to the boy. He had been warned not to look directly at it even with the protective inner eyelid. But he could no more ignore its splendid fury than ignore breathing.

Of course he had seen deserts before, had even camped in them as a child, but never such a vast, red, blazing desert as the one he now contemplated. It was as beautiful and as terrifying as his father had described it. He could see no way a person could live there for very long, but he had been told that even the children of this planet were required to complete a desert survival trial. He shuddered at the thought. His own planet was harsh but this one....

Of course much of his knowledge about this world constituted only rumours. He had heard that the people could kill you with their minds, and that when they died - they trapped their souls inside strange containers. His father and mother had told him other things during the 3 day trip here, accompanied by the huge white Federation Starship. Things which he found difficult to believe.

His school friends had nothing but obscenities to offer about people of this world and Ashan was just like any other young boy when it came to peer pressure. But he was no longer a boy - at 17 years counted on the Romulan time scale, he was legally an adult. He should no longer be concerned with those childish prejudices. So why was he weeping? Could it only have been a few days ago that he had been a normal, adolescent Romulan boy preparing to enter the military?

During the three days on board the transport ship, he had finally been told the truth. A truth that both horrified and shocked him to his core. To discover that he was part of this strange alien world filled him with a loathing he could not even begin to articulate. Now he sat staring out over the Forge with eyes that did not see and ears that did not hear.

Needing to be alone to think, Ashan had announced that he was going exploring. His aimless wanderings had brought him here, to this hostile, blazing landscape, more ancient even than the rift that existed between this planet and his own. No - not his own, he knew himself to be a child of both those worlds. But the knowledge served only to fuel his anger. How could his parents have kept this from him for so long? Even being able to understand his father's long absences failed to appease his rage.

Standing slowly, he began to walk into the desert, but before he had taken more than a few steps, a deep baritone voice spoke from behind him,"I have been looking for you."

He glanced over his shoulder at the stranger who wore his fathers' face.

"Well, you found me."

"If it is your intention to go into the desert, I must warn you that you will not survive more than a few hours in the Forge."

"Why not? According to mother, you survived the Forge when you were only 7 years old."

"Almost from the day I was born, I was trained for survival in these conditions. This planet is far less hospitable than your world Ashan - do not underestimate it. Come, your mother has prepared our evening meal and after we must talk."

Ashan turned back to his contemplation of Vulcan's desert and said stonily. "What is there to talk about father? I believe you have already explained the current situation to me most succinctly."

Spock regarded the back of his sons' dark head. He had no words to offer that would make this situation easier on the boy. He was well aware of how Ashan felt about him. And yet it was his duty to try, "This has come as a great shock to you...."

Without turning the boy spoke in a flat monotone, "A shock? Is that how you would describe it?"

The words were so devoid of emotion that they would have made a Vulcan proud. But not this one.

"Ashan....?" Spock began to reach for his son's shoulder, but let his hand drop before it made contact. Instead he quietly folded both hands behind his back.

His son finally deigned to face him and favoured him with a smile that failed to reach his eyes, "Don't worry - I'll try not to embarrass you in front of other Vulcans."

Spock closed his eyes momentarily and when he opened them again Ashan was walking stifly back towards town. He followed his sons retreating back with heavy eyes and heavier heart. He had come to tell him more of his heritage but he now saw that would not be wise. Finding out that he was Part Vulcan had been enough of a shock for one day. Perhaps it was too soon to reveal that he had human blood in him as well.

  


Later that day, Spock sat on one of his mother's prized antique "deck chairs" in the middle of her garden on their estate in Shikahr. The heat on Vulcan in mid-summer was almost unbearable even for him. However, a small desert breeze had sprung up, catching his too long hair and whispering through his fingers. He sat with eyes closed contemplating recent events with deep sadness.

At first he didn't hear the small chime. It was set too low for human hearing now that his mother was gone but he should have picked up on it easily enough. The truth was simply that he was so deep in thought, he had no sense of the outside. The chime sounded a second time but louder as it was programmed to do. This time Spock roused himself and cleared his throat.

"Come. "

A few moments later he heard a familiar and expected voice shout from the hall. "Where the devil are ye Spock - its too damned dark in here."

" The garden Mr Scott." Spock heard the force-field crackle as it shut down to allow the man exit from the house. A few seconds later it crackled again. He made a mental note to have the force-field repaired. It was supposed to be silent. Then the familiar Celtic burr was muttering in disapproval. "Ye have a wee crossed circuit in yer force-field generator Spock. I'll get ma tool kit and sort that oot afore I go."

Montgomery Scott, dressed in Starfleet issue desert suit stepped around the chair and stood, hands on hips, and broad Celtic smile on lips in front of his old shipmate and friend. "My god if yer no a sight fer sore eyes and that's a fact," he beamed.

Spock could not prevent the slight smile that tugged at the corners of his own mouth. "Mr Scott - emotional as ever I see."

Scott threw himself down into the other deck chair and shook his head in bemusement. "Spock I swear ye havna aged one day since I last saw ye."

"Nor have you engineer. I look forward to hearing more on that subject."

"It's been two years since they pulled me out of the Jenolen's transporter."

"Indeed? A most ingenious solution to your predicament at the time."

"Aye - well you know me. The miracle worker. But I meant what I said Spock - its been nearly - 80 years since we last saw each other - you barely show the years."

"I have some grey hairs, engineer, and less tolerance to the cold." Spock had not done the calculations for turning Earth standard years into Vulcan years (which involved the later being divided by approximately 2.4) for many years. He found that the mental equation was still readily available to him. "In Vulcan years, I am 59.25 years old."

Scott grinned broadly, "Well ye dinna look a day over 50 to me."

Spock inclined his head graciously then indicated the small replicator slot embedded in the marble table. "May I offer you some refreshment Mr Scott?"

Scott cocked an eyebrow in a most Spock-like fashion. In his day, replicator technology was way beyond the financial limits of most private citizens. No-one would have even such a modest unit as this one in their home. But then things had changed he thought wryly.

Probably every home had one now. sighing wistfully he muttered,. "God yer a dinosaur, Monty!"

"I do not know that beverage engineer," Spock intoned dryly.

Scowling affectionately at the Vulcan, Scott leaned forward. "Have ye any scotch then Spock - I feel like a wee toast, and its nae a proper toast without whisky."

Spock shook his head and fixing the engineer with a deeply soul wrenching look said to the replicator unit , "Two mint Juleps, iced with a twist of lemon."

Scott nodded slowly and watched as the drinks sparkled into existence before them. "He never managed to get the replicator on the Enterprise to make a decent mint Julep - said it was something to so with the synthetic mint. I suppose technology has come on a lot more than I realised." The engineer picked up his glass and began swirling the contents.

Spock lifted his own glass and this time Scott could not miss the small wry smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Indeed it has Mr Scott, however, I had this unit programmed to synthesise this particular drink some 85 years ago. I have developed a taste for them, although I never did admit that to McCoy. He would have found the irony quite appealing."

"I think yer right as always, Mr Spock." and he lifted the glass aloft letting Vulcan's raging ruddy sun turn the liquid a muddy brown, "Tae absent friends."

Spock swallowed hard but his voice betrayed not a hint of emotion. "To absent friends."

Scott regarded Spock over the rim of his glass. There was a question he longed to ask the Vulcan but he wasn't sure if this was the right time. Then again - perhaps there would never be a time so right again. Clearing his throat he carefully placed the glass on the marble table. Spock was looking down into the frosted contents of his own glass.

Before the engineer could find the right words, Spock stated,"You are about to ask me why I did not attend the service held for Captain Kirk after his disappearance from the Enterprise B."

Scotty drew in a sharp breath. Either Spock was reading his mind, or he had become unforgivably transparent over the years. Either way it didn't matter. With his usual precision, the Vulcan had cut straight to the heart of the matter. It had upset the engineer deeply when Spock was absent from the service in Iowa at Jim's parents farm.

It had been Kirk's will to be buried in space, but of course there had been no body to bury, so McCoy had insisted on holding a service when the truth had eventually dawned. Jim Kirk was not coming back.

Captain Sulu had been given permission by Starfleet to leave his ship to attend the service, and all of the other Enterprise Bridge crew, had been on Earth at the time anyway. McCoy had sent word to Spock, but there had been no reply.

It was perhaps fortunate that McCoy's stubborn pride had prevented him digging deeper and inadvertently discovering the truth of Spock's whereabouts. The service had gone ahead without the Vulcan.

Now Spock placed his own glass on the table and leaned forward. Unflinchingly, he held Scotts gaze. "I knew he was not dead."

Scott looked at him askance. Of course, in retrospect, Scott knew that was true, but Spock must have realised that his absence would deeply hurt his human friends, who did not have the benefit of his bone-deep certainty. Again Spock seemed to read his mind.

"And there was more to it than that. The truth, is that I was on the Romulan Home world at that time."

Scott picked up his drink and drained the glass in one long gulp. "Let me get this straight Mr Spock - you were on Romulus. With the Romulans. On Romulus."

"Overstated but accurate, engineer."

"So my next question would be...."

"Why? I was investigating the possibility of Re-unification of our two peoples."

"What? We knew nothing of this," Scott spluttered.

"The Federation council were unaware that the process was being started. It was a decision I made unilaterally and without the support of either the Federation or The Vulcan high councils. I had taken an extended leave and was operating undercover within the Romulan Empire. That is why it was not possible for me to attend the service."

"When I left Picard's ship - I tried to find you, but it seemed like you had just disappeared. Ma contacts at Starfleet couldn't even help. You were on Romulus?"

"Correct. During my last visit, Sarek died and I came to see that there was nothing left for me in the Federation, so I remained on Rihannsu to continue my work."

Scott shifted uncomfortably in the deck chair, "I was sorry to hear about your father. He was a great man. I grieve with thee." He spoke the Ancient High Vulcan phrase in Standard to avoid mispronunciation.

Spock merely nodded, his silence speaking volumes. Quickly Scotty changed the subject back to less emotive grounds. "And were you successful on Romulus Mr Spock?"

The Vulcan stirred uncomfortably. "The process will be long and protracted. It will take many more years to come to fruition. I have recently been forced to flee the Empire in the wake of the new hard line regime but it is my intention to return as soon as possible to continue my work."

"And those Romulans you shipped in with?"

"Are members of the Romulan Underground Movement who's lives would be at risk if they had remained on Rihannsu."

Scott nodded, "Well tis a fine story and no mistake. How has the Vulcan High Council reacted?"

"They have accepted my travelling companions as political refugees, however there will no doubt be serious repercussions. I have been requested to resign my post as Federation Ambassador to Quon'os and there will be an investigation into my unsanctioned actions. However I am hopeful that in going public, I can prompt more serious consideration of the issue."

"Tis hard to credit. Who'd hae believed that you would end up an ambassador for peace - just like your father always wanted."

"Indeed - sometimes I wonder if we are truly masters of our own destiny."

Scott nodded sagely. "How did you know that Jim wasn't dead?"

Spock cocked an eyebrow at the sudden change in subject. "We were..... connected. There is a word in Vulcan - Th'ylla. Nowadays it is rarely used except as an endearment between bonded couples. However, traditionally it can be used to describe to relationship between siblings or close friends.

The relationship must be very deep to allow for a mental bond of the nature that I speak. More that a friend, more than a brother - he was the personification of my human half. That is, in fact, one of the most common translations of the word - Th'ylla means 'the other half of self'. Jim shared these feelings, and so a bond was established. If he had died - I would have felt the bond severed - it would have caused me great psychological trauma."

" Sounds like what happens when a Vulcan marriage bond is broken?"

"Very similar. Nothing is stronger than a properly established marriage bond, I would not have died - but the mental damage could have been, and indeed nearly was quite extensive."

Scott suddenly realised that Spock was talking about Kirk's actual death less than a month ago. No-one outside top brass of Starfleet was meant to know about it. Scotty had found out - through Jean-Luc Picard. He had dealt with his grief at losing his friend years before, and somehow could not quite face dealing with it again. The events on Veridian III seemed somehow unreal to him.

"You felt his death even on Romulus?"

"I had no idea of the circumstances until later but yes, I felt the bond broken. It was a most...unpleasant experience. I see you are also aware of the events?"

" Picard told me ."

"And McCoy?"

"We decided against it. He was already very weak - what was the point in opening up those old scars?"

"I see. Perhaps that was for the best," The Vulcan sighed deeply.

Scott pulled himself up from the deck chair and rubbed at his suddenly stiff neck. "Did ye hear how Jim died? Saving an entire planet? It's how he would have wanted it don't you think?"

The Vulcan also stood, "It is what I found so compelling about him Mr Scott. A Universe, a Galaxy, a planet or a single person - he would have given his life just as willingly for one man as for a million. For James Kirk, the needs of the many were the same as the needs of the one. He made no distinction - each and every life was important to him and the needs of each individual outweighed his needs. As I said before - he was the other half of me and I miss him."

Scott felt the sting of tears begin to form behind his eyes. "Aye - me too."

Spock gazed up at the sky and watched as one of Vulcans delicate silver birds soared overhead. "And there is another I will miss. McCoy never knew that I also considered him Th'ylla."

"Are ye so sure Spock? - he carried ye around inside his head for a while remember? I know he took yer death after our wee run-in with Khan really badly, and when that High Priestess told him the re-fusing would be dangerous - he told her straight - I choose the danger. What does that tell ye Spock?"

"I always assumed that he chose the danger because he was so desperate to be rid of my Katra. From what Jim told me - it caused him great discomfort."

Scotty laughed. "Aye - none of us knew what was causin' his erratic behaviour. Even McCoy thought he was goin' mad - especially when they threw him in the loony bin."

Spock frowned at the unfamiliar term, but Scott did not stop to explain, "When he found out what was goin' on, things changed. He once told me that he started having conversations with ye inside his head. And because he was in control - he always won the arguments. It seemed to gie him a great deal o' pleasure."

"I do not doubt it."

"Anyway, my point is this - he really got to know you well when he carried your Katra - I think he knew exactly how you felt about him."

Spock remained uncharacteristically silent. Scott indicated in the general direction of Shikahr's spaceport "I have to go now Spock. They say it will take a week tae fix ma ship so I've had to book transport to Earth. It leaves in less that an hour. Will ye come with me? I'm sure McCoy's ghost would haunt ye if ye missed his wake."

"An unsettling thought, engineer, however not entirely unfamiliar."

"How so?"

"He haunted me when he was still alive." And Scotty almost died there himself - laughing.


	5. Resistance is Futile

  


The transport to Earth was one of the slower lines, which took nearly 2 days to reach its destination. In that time Scott had slept for a while, eaten a little and drunk a lot. By now he should be as drunk as a Klingon on the eve of a battle and well down the road to forgetfulness. But he was not. In this century, synthahol had none of the incapacitating benefits of real alcohol - which annoyed him greatly.

He had been trying to remember McCoy as he had seen him at Kirks memorial service, full of life and energy and rampant emotionalism. But all he could remember was his last sight of McCoy lying in that hospital bed, old, frail and tired of living.

Had it had been a mistake to look up his old friends? Jean-Luc had warned him not to. But he had felt so very alone in this Time. Not his time. Somehow he had been shocked to find that time had caught up on those people he had known so well. Spock was different, he was a Vulcan. He could live to be 300. But McCoy - to find him still alive only to lose him a few weeks later. Scotty refused to feel regret. At least he'd had the opportunity to see his friend one last time before he died. That was a precious gift.

Scott slid down from the barstool and looked around the transport's large bar area for Spock. There he was, exactly where Scott had left him four hours ago, at the viewing ports. Spock sat in one of the "comfortable" viewing chairs staring out into space. Scott had decided to leave him to his private grief but now found that he desperately wanted to talk to the Vulcan - his only link with his own time. Spock turned as Scott approached, his Vulcan mask firmly back in place.

"I trust you are suitably inebriated Mr Scott"

"Not by a long shot Spock but it doesn't matter now. How are you feeling?"

There would have been a time when the Vulcan would have made some glib comment about Vulcan's not having feelings but not now. "Apprehensive. Vulcan memorial services are not emotional, the healing of body and soul is accomplished before such events. The ceremony which follows, where the Katra is given over to the hall of Ancient Thought, is a time of serenity for all involved. I find Human services much harder to cope with."

"It's our way of dealing with the grief Spock. We try to mix the sadness with some joy at remembering the life of the person that has gone. We are supposed to feel much better after a Wake."

Spock cocked an eyebrow. "My father held a Wake after my mother died for the benefit of her human friends. It did not make me feel better"

Scott glanced up in time to see the quickly concealed pain in his friends' eyes. Spock still chose to retreat into his More-Vulcan-Than-Thou persona when human emotionalism threatened to swamp him. Scott knew better than to push. He quickly changed the subject.

"I always thought I'd go before McCoy. I'm 5 years older than him, did ye know that?"

"Of course. Your personal files were available to me whilst on board the Enterprise. However I believe I understand your situation. As a Vulcan, the probability was high that I would outlive my human friends. It is not an easy thing to witness but I have had many years to prepare for it."

"Is that why ye never married a human lass Spock? After that debacle at your wedding ceremony no-one would blame ye for bein' sworn off women for life but I always felt you would benefit from a relationship."

Spock decided to let the breach of privacy pass without comment. "I could have sought out another bond-mate among my own people Mr Scott, however the opportunity did not arise. I was never on Vulcan long enough to set the wheels in motion as you would put it."

Spock looked down at his knees and seemed to be brushing as some invisible lint. The engineer got the distinct impression that Spock was embarrassed about something.

"Is there something yer not telling me Mr Spock?"

"I..... have in fact found a wife Mr Scott"

So many question assaulted the engineers brain at the same time that the incomprehensible babble that issued from his mouth made the Vulcan wonder if he was having some sort of seizure. Eventually, Scott managed to get control of his faculties by taking several deep breaths.

"When did this happen?"

"Approximately 40 Standard years ago on my third independent trip to Rihannsu."

"A ROMULAN? You married a Romulan Spock?...."

"It was not actually our first meeting. You will recall an incident some years ago where the Enterprise shall we say 'acquired' some Romulan technology?"

"Bloody hell - yer talkin' about yon Commander are ye not? The one we stole the clocking device technology from. I thought the Empire demoted her or something equally terrible"

"Actually, they dismissed her from military service, which is a great disgrace within the Empire. However through hard work and effort, she managed to make a success of her life as a civilian and became an aide to a local senator. It was in his office that I first encountered her. Fortunately she decided not to expose me right away."

"And how exactly did you manage to accomplish that?" Scott could not hide the broad grin that was fighting for prominence on his face at that moment.

Spock allowed that eyebrow to climb into his hairline. "You do not suppose that I associated with Jim Kirk for all those years without picking up some of his - techniques?"

  


The Q had become bored with the image torn from Picard's mind of a fiery, blazing landscape, which he had called hell. The Captain seemed to have a particular aversion to fire. Although he had derived the greatest of pleasure from torturing the Starfleet Officer, there were other images in the man's head that would do the work for him. With a wave of his hand, the flames subsided and Picard sunk to his knees gasping.

"What do you want from me?" he cried.

This time the words were weaker. The Q smiled. Little by little he had been wearing down Picard's strength so that now the human was barely able to stand. Soon enough he would reveal to this puny creature exactly what he wanted from him.

"There is an image in your mind that I find most intriguing. It fills you with terror. Let us explore it"

Picard gasped at the now familiar sensation of movement through darkness. When he could force his eyes open, he realised with deep dread that he was on a Borg cube-ship.

He was on a long platform of black metal, suspended over an enormous bank of Borg Regeneration Alcoves. Strange machinery stretched out around him in all directions, snakelike conduits and cables connecting them together in a manner Picard could not fathom. In his head the voices of the approaching drones had begun their familiar litany.

"We are the Borg. Resistance is futile. We will add your biological distinctiveness to our own"

Picard could not prevent the stab of terror that shot through his body. Still on his knees, he struggled to stand as the Borg closed in on him from both ends of the platform.

"You will be re-assimilated. Resistance is futile....."

"No!!!!!!!", he screamed as a drone closed its clammy grey hand on his arm, the vice-like grip nearly crushing the bones. He frantically searched for a means of escape, but there was no where to go.

"The collective requires the services of Locutus once more"

"No!!" he sobbed.

Then he felt the sharp sting of a nano-probe injector as it pierced his neck.

"No" he whispered, with a voice that was no longer entirely his own.


	6. Reflections

  


 

The large meeting room at Starfleet Headquarters had all but emptied and Spock was more than ready to leave. His travelling companion had managed to find real alcohol from somewhere and also some people to help him drink the stuff. His deep baritone voice could be heard murdering the old earth ballad "Danny Boy" somewhere over in the corner.

Spock had sat patiently through all the speeches and tributes including one by his old friend Admiral Joshua Landsbury in which the he told the assembly of how the doctor had once saved his life.

Apparently the Admiral had inadvertently gotten between two Klingons involved in a blood feud and come away with a Klingon dagger imbedded in his chest. When Landsbury had complained to McCoy later that he would have a scar, McCoy had quipped "I'm a doctor not a seamstress". As the room erupted into gales of laughter, Spock recalled other such comments made by the doctor over the years and sighed.

He had often found the doctor's sense of humour irritating but had recently discovered that he had missed his dry wit. Amidst the inappropriately merry throng, Spock suddenly felt very alone. As the doctor had been infuriatingly human, Spock could not even return the favour McCoy had once done for him. He could not carry his Katra to the Hall of Ancient Thought.

Perhaps the people around Spock looked at him and assumed, as they did of other Vulcans, that he had no feelings. He sighed again. I am a Vulcan, not a machine. McCoy would appreciate the humour in that statement he thought sadly.

He paid his condolences to McCoys' family and numerous friends, joined in the toasts and made one or two of his own. Now most of the assembled Brass had left.

Spock had been gratified to see Admiral Landsbury again. 70 years ago, Cadet Joshua Landsbury had received his first Academy posting as a diplomatic aide to the Klingon Embassy, and there he had met Ambassador Spock. Over the years, they had become friends. The Admiral was one of the few members of Starfleet who knew of Spock's mission to Rihannsu. Jean-Luc Picard was another.

Spock wondered why Picard was not present at the Memorial Service. According to Landsbury, after the destruction of his ship, the Captain was granted shore leave, which he had taken on Earth. And knowing that Spock was in a position to be at the service, it was logical to assume that he would also attend. Perhaps he had seen enough death recently.  
Spock made his way over to the singers and cleared his throat loudly to get Scott's attention. "Spock - jump in any time"

 

"I regret that I must leave Mr Scott. I have managed to arrange transport on the Federation Medical Supply ship - Alexander Fleming. It leaves orbit in 48 minutes for Vulcan. It has been most agreeable to see you again"

"Leaving are ye? That is a great pity. We were just about to sing "I'll take you home again Kathleen."

Spock's face took on a far away pained look, "I cannot listen to that particular piece without remembering it sung quite badly by Lieutenant Kevin Riley."

"God almighty Spock that's right. I remember it well - what a time we had getting the bugger out o my engine room. Everyone was coming doon with some strange virus or the like but I didn't have the time - I was too busy with savin' ma engines. Do ye remember it Spock?"

"Indeed I do. That particular episode raised some serious questions for me that I had never considered before. It was a most illuminating time."

"Aye Well tis sorry I am tae see you go Spock. I often feel verra, verra lonely in this time period. Will we ever meet up again, you and I?"

"It is a very small Universe Mr Scott. I have no doubt that we shall. Live long and prosper."

Spock raised his hand in the Vulcan formal salute but Scotty shook his head. Before Spock could guess what the engineer had in mind, he was being pulled into a gentle bear-hug. Somehow the physical closeness did not repel Spock as it often had in the past. He allowed his barriers down enough to sense his friends' sorrow and loneliness and clumsily hugged him back.

It was Scott that broke the embrace first. "Sorry Spock - I shouldna hae done that. Even after all these years I sometimes forget."

Spock held out his hand, and automatically the engineer took it. " There can be no insult taken where none is meant - and you are, after all, my friend."

With that he turned on his heel and strode out of the hall, taking care not to look back.

 

Later that evening, Spock found that the contemplative mood he had fallen into would not leave him. Once installed into his VIP quarters on board the Fleming, he allowed himself to reflect on things.

So much had happened to him recently that he could barely credit it. The past 3 years, he had spent living entirely on Rihannsu. Somewhat surprisingly, the Vulcan had come to regard it as home. He doubted that he could make a permanent home on Vulcan now, especially if the Vulcan High Council remained closed on the matter of Unification. No matter how eloquently Spock had argued the logic of it, he was really no further forward. Eventually, he would be duty bound to return to Rihannsu even if it mean his death.

Then there was his marriage to Seleya and the birth of his son 38 Standard years ago. For some inexplicable reason, Spock had kept this aspect of his life a closely guarded secret, even from Picard. Now he tried to analyse his decision.

His meeting with Seleya in the office of Senator Pardeck, had been a revelation to Spock. Apart from the very real danger that his cover was blown, there had been the realisation that the long suppressed feelings he had for the woman were still very much alive. She had been standing with her back to him when he entered the room but somehow he had known her right away. Not once had he imagined that their paths would cross. The fact that she was here was a tribute to her tenacity - it would have taken an extraordinary woman to survive the punishment inflicted on her by the Empire after that sorry business of the cloaking device, and yet survived she had.

Spock realised that he had made what would probably be a fatal error of judgement. Then she had turned and seen him. The shock of recognition was apparent in her face but she had covered it well. The Senator was talking and Spock became aware that he had missed the first part of the conversation.

No matter, it was all academic now. She would expose him for who and what he was, and that would be an end to him. The Senator would not protect him and Spock would not expect him to. It was always understood that if Spock should be discovered, he was on his own. But she said nothing. He saw a fire in her eyes and wondered if it was hatred that burned there.

They were introduced and shook hands formally, although Spock still remembered vividly the current of electricity that shot through his body at the touch of her hand. He had betrayed her all those years ago. It had always been his intention and yet he had not bargained for his complex feeling for her. And when the moment came to stand with his Captain, Spock had almost rebelled against the only choice he could have made in all logic. But she would not have had him, knowing the truth about his motives. He could not have blamed her for hating him. And yet she said nothing.

Later that evening, after the formal dinner served at the Senator's home she had sought him out. They had wandered casually into the moonlit gardens and stopped by a rippling waterfall. She had turned to him with those huge brown eyes and said simply, "What are you here to steal this time Mr Spock? Surely there can be nothing in this Empire that you could possibly want?"

Spock sighed deeply and shocked himself by saying, "You are wrong"

She quickly turned away from him towards the waterfall.

"Seleya, -please believe me - I never wanted to hurt you"

"I do not grant you the right to use my given name."

"You did once"

"And you betrayed me. I will not bore you with the details of my life since then. It has taken many years to get back any semblance of respectability within the Empire. I should be a Fleet Commander by now instead of working as an aide to a Senator. But no matter. That is the past. What interests me now is what to do with this information. There were many years when I dreamed of exacting my revenge upon you Spock. Now I finally have the opportunity. What would you have me do? Shall I allow you the Romulan Right of Statement before I reveal you Spock? Or would that be foolhardy?"

"Seleya......"

Spock reached for her shoulders twisting her around to face him. It had been his intention to let go but now he found he could not. His anger was rapidly being replaced by another emotion.

"Let me go."

"There is something you should know. I had been a Starfleet Officer for 20 years and never in all that time had I come as close to mutiny as I did on that day. Did you honestly believe that I had no feeling for you Seleya? That I have none now?"

They were both breathing rapidly. Slowly he had pulled her closer so that now she was pressed against the length of him. His eyes burned, his skin burned. Any moment now he would surely burst into flames.

"What I believed was that you must be a monster Spock and I was right. Here you are again deep within my Empire, using your talent for espionage to what ends I do not know - yet. But I will Spock, I will know the truth this time."

Spock heard none of this. He could no longer hear anything but the beating of his own heart or feel anything but the heat of her body pressed so closely to his own. His hand slid from its vice-like grip on her shoulder up her neck and buried itself deep within her hair. He felt her gasp against his lips as he claimed hers in a white-hot searing kiss that left them both shaken and breathless.

"Tell me you feel nothing for me Seleya and I will walk away now....Tell me......"

She pushed ineffectively at his shoulders, trying to twist away from those dark, fiery eyes. "I hate you Spock - that is what I feel for you. I hate...."

The end of the sentence was lost to the burning heat of his lips on hers once again. This time she did not fight. He felt the resistance leave her as her body became limp and pliable in his arms. She slid her hands into his hair and matched his passion with her own.

Many moments later he tore himself from her with an almost physical wince of pain. " Madness. Why do you have this effect on me? I am a Vulcan, trained to repress emotions, and yet I have no control where you are concerned. I cannot allow this to happen"

She clutched the low wall in front of her and shook her head. "I told you that I hated you Spock. That was true, I hated you and your dammed Captain Kirk and all of your Starfleet Officer friends. I hated them for being more important to you than I was. Ours was a brief affair but one that affected me more deeply than any I had had before or have had since. Of course my heart was never truly involved before. But being in love with you will not stop me from avenging myself on you."

Spock sat down heavily on the small wall surrounding the pool of sparkling water. She loved him? Long ago he had no experience of that emotion and could not have recognised it in himself. He had been through so much since then and had learned so many things over the years, about himself and the people around him. He had learned that love was not a weakness, but a great strength. It was what he had shared with this woman all those years ago and not even known its name.

"Love is not a concept that Vulcans claim to understand, Seleya. We even try to deny its existence, but I cannot deny it. I feel it burn in my very soul. If that makes me less of a Vulcan then so be it"

His words sounded so bleak that she took a hesitant step towards him, her hand raised as if to touch him. But then she stopped and let the hand drop away.

"Why must you do this to me Spock - I must know the truth. Why have you come here?"

Spock rested his elbows on his kneed and steepled his fingers. There was nothing to be lost in telling the truth now. "There is a growing need amongst both the Vulcan and Romulan peoples for re-unification. I am here to begin the process"

"Re-unification? It will not happen in my lifetime."

"You oppose?"

"On the contrary Spock, I would welcome my Vulcan siblings with open arms, but I know many who would not. People who matter in the Empire. Very powerful people. If this is truly what you are here for Spock, I fear you will leave this planet empty handed."

"Or I will not leave this planet at all." He stood slowly and reached for her pulling her into an almost tender embrace, "My fate is very much in your hands Seleya. What will you do with me?."

She smiled slyly at him. "Firstly we must leave the party without causing a scandal. Then........."


	7. The Blood Fever

Spock was no stranger to passion. Although it was the one emotion that the Vulcans had tried to eradicate entirely from their lives, the price they paid was Pon Far. Once every 7 years of an adult male's life all that buried passion boiled to the surface in one violent burning fury. In ancient days the male of the species fought for their women to the death during Pon Far. The winner claimed the female as their mate and the act of mating saved their lives.

As civilisation came to the Vulcan people, it became customary to bond their children at a very early age (just after they had survived their Kaswan ordeal) in order that there would be no need for a fight to the death. But no matter how civilised they became, when Pon Far happened to an adult male, no training in the world could stop them from losing control.

Spock had nearly died during his first Pon Far rather than break the ancient rules of privacy which prevented him telling his friends on the Enterprise what was happening to him. He became the first Vulcan in the planets history to survive the ordeal of Pon Far by neither mating OR dying. He had wondered if his human blood had prevented him from experiencing the full force of the plac Tau or blood fever. Then he recalled how it had felt to be gripped by that inferno of passion to the point where he would even kill his friend Jim Kirk for the right to mate. No - he had felt its full unleashed force and he had survived.

The whole affair had raised certain unavoidable question for Spock. He had no mate and was not bonded. 7 years from now (nearly 17 standard years) this would happen to him again. What would he do? He supposed he would die. That was infinitely preferable to fighting someone else to the death.

Perhaps he could find another suitable woman to bond with. Spock dismissed the idea. When would he find time to do that? No he was in all probability a doomed man. With careful planning and monitoring of his general condition, he was sure he could arrange to be on Vulcan the next time this happened where at least some-one would take his Katra to the Hall of Ancient Thought.

A few years later, Spock had undergone 2 years of Kholinar training on Vulcan. One of the benefits of such rigorous mental discipline was the ability to withstand Pon Far through the use of deep meditation techniques. Although not entirely infallible, the techniques allowed most Kholinaru to survive the blood fever. Spock was confident the next time he would be prepared.

It had not happened that way of course. The call from Carol Markus had initiated a remarkable series of events, which had not only caused the Vulcan to experience Pon Far prematurely, but had culminated in his death and rebirth.

There was no doubt that had Spocks Katra been in his body at the time, he would never have allowed Saavik to make the sacrifice that she did to save him. But forces his primitive brain could not understand controlled his body. Saavik later doubted that Spock would even remember the events. Spock remembered. He had cheated death a second time.

Spock had not had to push the question of survival to the back of his mind for many years now. And yet today, when he had held Seleya in his arms, the blood fever became a sharp focused memory, one that he had not allowed himself to remember for a very long time. He knew that it was not nearly his time yet. His reaction to her came from some other need deep within him. She was a woman who could match him in intellect, strength and power. It was possible that she could become another part of him just like Jim and McCoy and all his other friends were. But much more. Since Kirk's death, Spock had been aware of a gaping void in his life, one which he knew, on a purely instinctive level, this woman could fill.

Now Spock stood watching her fumble the lock on her apartment door and realised that he was experiencing another human emotion. Nerves. He reached past her to take the key card from her trembling fingers and swiped it down the lock with undue force. The door mechanism squealed in protest but the door slid open never the less. She thanked him quietly and stepped through the threshold.

Spock glanced around the brightly-lit apartment. There was a large fire pit in the centre of the room surrounded with soft cushions and furs. It could be lit with a simple verbal command. Spock looked back at her and without taking his eyes from hers said loudly, "Fire"

The flames sprung up in the pit and Spock saw them reflected in her eyes. "Lights, one third" he heard her say as the ambient lighting in the room dropped to a more intimate intensity.

He reached for her hand to draw her close to the fire but the simple act of touching her turned his blood to molten lava and the next few moments were lost to his conscious mind. He had no idea how they came to be lying on the furs or how their clothes came to be scattered over the floor. He had no idea how his lungs had survived the ragged breathing he was unable to control or how his heart had not burst open under its own frenzied hammering.

But none of this mattered, all that mattered were her lips, whispering his name against his own mouth, inflaming his passion to the point beyond return. He was no longer in control of his emotions and he did not care. He lay back in the soft fur savouring the sensation of her hair trailing sensuously down his body. He heard the ragged groan issuing from his lips and reached for her. This torment could not continue. He threw her back onto the furs and covered her gasping lips with his own and was lost to the outside world for a very long time.

 

Spock had made 6 other trips to Rihannsu over the next 40 years, all of them more for personal reasons than political ones. On the third trip he had made the decision to marry Seleya. His choice could not be explained using logic, and Spock had suddenly gained an insight into the reasons behind his father's choice of life-mate. The thought that he may have more in common with his father than he could ever have imagined caused Spock some discomfort.

Perhaps that was why he had failed to mention all this to Picard. Two standard years later, Spock received news of the birth of his son.


	8. Join the Q

"Bridge to Ambassador Spock."

Spock roused himself and turned to the communication panel next to his bed. Pressing the button a little to harshly, he answered the hail.

"Spock here."

"Captain Rodgers respectfully requests you presence on the bridge sir."

Spock frowned. It was most unusual to call a civilian passenger to the bridge of a Starship. "Is there a problem Lieutenant?"

"I'm sorry sir I don't have any more information for you. Shall I send someone to direct you?"

"That will not be necessary."

Spock swung his legs easily from the bunk and strode to the door. He had travelled many times before on Surak class Starships and was well aware of the ship specs. After all, he had been involved in the design process. He reached the Turbolift just as the red alert siren began to sound. The ship lurched to starboard causing him to loose his footing somewhat. The lift doors opened and a team of security officers spilled out into the cramped corridor. The Lieutenant in charge regarded the Vulcan, noting his civilian attire.

"Please return to your quarters sir. The ship has gone to red alert. "

"My presence has been requested on the bridge Lieutenant."

The security officer frowned then turned to his men "Ritchards, please escort this gentleman to the bridge then get back down here pronto. " And with that the man marshalled his troops and headed off down the corridor at warp speed.

The Fleming's bridge was even smaller than that of the old Enterprise. This vessel, although designated Starship, was actually a small medical supply ship used to ferry drugs and personnel between planets in the sectors close to Earth. It was mostly storage space with a tiny security division and some crew quarters. Spock immediately stepped down towards the Captain's chair but his attention was on the forward view screen.

Floating in space barely 2,000 km from the now stationary Starship, was an extraordinary phenomenon. Spock blinked twice. He was seeing a huge image of an elderly woman dressed from head to toe in black. He took another step towards the centre seat. Captain Rodgers turned to the Vulcan. He was a handsome, sandy haired man of ruddy complexion, although right now there was not a trace of colour on his face.

"Ambassador - help me out here will you - this IS Queen Victoria is it not?" said the Captain in his clipped English accent.

Spock reached his side and carefully folded his hands behind his back. Unconsciously he took up the very same stance he had often adopted on the bridge of the Enterprise when perplexed by some strange occurrence.

"A representation of her at any rate. What do sensors tell you?"

"That there's nothing there."

"Fascinating." Spock turned to scan the rest of the bridge. There was no science station on this ship. Sensors and deflectors were tied directly into the helm. There was however, a very small library terminal. Spock indicated the computer station. "May I?"

Rodgers nodded and got to his feet. He stepped down to the helm and reached past his navigator to punch in some figures. "Help yourself. We have tried to get around it - but it moves with us. We even tried going through it but that was like hitting a brick wall."

Spock remembered the lurch just before getting into the turbolift. "I encountered a similar phenomenon many years ago. If this is the same - you will be unable to escape it. Are you able to re-route main sensors to this terminal Captain?"

Rodgers looked at his helmsman who nodded quickly. "Right away, sir."

Spock turned back to the terminal at waited for the ready signal. Rodgers spoke again. "Are we getting anything yet Lieutenant?"

The officer at communications turned slightly and shook her head. "Nothing sir. I'm broadcasting lingua-code on all frequencies - but so far, her majesty is not amused."

The Captain favoured his Communications Officer with a frosty glare but she merely shrugged and turned back to her station. Rodgers wiped sweat from his brow and stepped up to the upper bridge level where Spock was working. "Anything?"

Spock continued feeding information into the computer. This Captain was a man of few words, which Spock appreciated. He wished he had something more to give him.

"Your initial analysis was accurate in that the sensors detect nothing out there. I have run a diagnostic on the view screen itself, and it is functioning correctly but with this terminal, I am unable to conduct a more detailed analysis. It has been many years since I have had reason to...."

Spock never finished the sentence. The image of Queen Victoria was beginning to shift and fade in and out in a most disconcerting manner. Within a few moments, the image was unrecognisable but then it began to coalesce into a different form. Spock allowed his eyebrow to disappear into his hairline. Now the image was that of Admiral Lord Nelson.

Rodgers looked back at the Vulcan. "I know a little of your history, Sir - I called you up here hoping that you could advise me on this. I realise you haven't served on a Starship for a few years but - quite frankly - you're all I've got"

Spock nodded. This vessel was not meant for exploration and the crew was not trained for the intricacies of deep space phenomenon.

Rodgers was speaking again, "You mentioned that you'd encountered this before?"

Spock decided to abandon his fruitless attempts on the computer and got to his feet. Standing next to the Captain, he felt that curious sensation of déjà vu again. It really was most disquieting.

"On the surface, it would appear to be the same phenomenon. However on that occasion, we were well outside charted space. The beings from the planet Excaliba generated the images onto our viewscreen. As we are nowhere near their space, I am at a loss to explain why this is happening here."

"What did your Captain do about it?"

Spock folded his arms behind his back once again and regarded the viewscreen. "He... beamed President Lincoln onto the Enterprise with a full honour guard."

Rodgers nearly choked. Once in control again the Captain actually laughed, despite the seriousness of the situation. "That certainly fits the image of Kirk from my history texts. How did it end?"

"With a battle between the forces of good and evil. I'm surprised those events are not required reading at the Academy."

Rodgers blushed slightly and failed to meet the Vulcan's eyes. "I'm sure they are - military history was not exactly my strong point at the Academy, Sir."

Spock gazed back at the viewscreen. "Captain, I cannot rule out the possibility that somehow the Excalibans have created these images, but neither can I conclusively prove it to be the case. It is my opinion that these images are being called from your own mind. You are British are you not?"

Rodgers nodded and began to pace the upper deck of the Fleming's small bridge. "My security team's on standby in the transporter room. Maybe I should try to bring that thing on board."

"It is of course a command decision. As a civilian, I can only advise. And in this case I would advise caution."

A new and entirely unexpected voice with a gleeful lilting quality spoke then, "For pity's sake would you get a move on. Kirk would have been sitting down to dinner with the Admiral by now"

Both men, and the entire bridge crew, wheeled round to face the person who had spoken. Standing beside the turbolift doors was a tall man dressed in Starfleet uniform. The man tugged at the hem of jacket, and began to saunter towards the surprised Officers.

Rodgers reached for the intercom switch. "Security to the bridge, we have an intruder, repeat - we have an intruder on the bridge."

Spock was regarding the stranger with a quizzical expression. He had never actually met this being, but had watched enough footage of his exploits to know exactly who he was. "You are responsible for these images?"

"Well done Spock - the intelligence of your species never fails to amaze me."

Spock sighed and turned to the confused Captain Rodgers. "I have the dubious pleasure of introducing you to a being that calls himself Q. He is from a race we now know to be the Q continuum."

The turbolift chose that moment to deposit five security officers onto the bridge. They levelled their phasers at the Q's head. Spock addressed the Security team without taking his eyes from Q. "Your weapons will be ineffective. He can render them inoperative. Q, I am curious - why are you here?"

"Because, Mr Spock, I need your help."

Captain Rodgers stood and advanced on the strange individual menacingly. "Alright I've had just about enough of this. How about someone explains what's going on to the poor Captain?"

Q barely glanced at the Captain. "Forgive me, we of the Q find your reality quite difficult to interact with in a manner you would understand. May I have the opportunity to explain further?"

Spock turned to Captain Rodgers and raised an eyebrow. "It would seem logical."

Rodgers sat down in his command chair heavily and sighed. "Ok - lets talk."

 

They all sat around a small table in the Fleming's briefing room, Captain Rodgers, his first officer and Spock facing the Q who was smiling broadly. He cleared his throat in what Spock decided was a most theatrical manner and began talking.

"You are aware of an energy ribbon that passes through your space on a regular basis. This vortex or nexus as you call it, is the conduit through which our continuum travels between realities. I won't attempt to explain the science of it, as you're simply not equipped to understand, however there have been several occasions where members of your species have accidentally been caught in the nexus. Once inside, they exist in our fluid time state but do not appear to be aware of the fact. We decided it would be of scientific interest to study these individuals. However, whilst a member of our continuum was inside conducting research, one of your race managed to escape his fluid time state and return to his own reality."

Spock interrupted, "You refer, of course, to Captain Picard."

"Ah yes - my old friend Jean-Luc. A most remarkable individual, whom I have taken a personal interest in over the years. He managed to break free with the essence of another of your kind - Captain James Kirk. I really don't know how they overcame the effects of fluid time - a remarkable feat for so primitive a species. However in so doing, they disrupted the very fabric of the nexus. My compatriot, who calls himself Lien - was seriously injured. I also believe that he has become quite insane."

Spock, to whom the idea of mental incapacity was even more hideous than death, delicately cleared his throat, "That is... most unfortunate. However I fail to see why you have deemed it necessary to inform us of these facts."

"We of the Q have reached an ethical dilemma Mr Spock. Lien has vowed not only to destroy both Picard and Kirk, believing them to be responsible for his present condition, but also your entire reality. We can't allow him to do that, but unfortunately, neither can we stop him. We have occasionally resorted to execution in the past, but Lien has not actually committed a crime - yet. Until he does, he is a grave threat to this reality and although he is weak, make no mistake - he is still quite capable of carrying out his threat. We need your help to protect these two individuals until a way can be found to stop Lien."

The silence in the small room was deafening. Spock suddenly felt every one of his 140 years. "You are unaware then, that James Kirk is already dead?"

Q shook his head impatiently and said quickly, "The man that left the nexus with Picard was only partly your Captain - an echo if you will."

"I do not understand."

Q sighed deeply and stared at Spock as if he were an imbecile. "Our research is not complete, but it is our observation that members of your species trapped in the nexus remain anchored in time and space. Their perceived journeys are achieved by mentally manipulating fluid time to create alternative realities within their own minds. Are you with me so far? Good. Now, the longer they remain within the nexus, the more realities are created. Each reality contains the essence of the person creating it, but the real person remains suspended in time and space at their point of entry. Fortunately for us, it was one of these alternative realities that Picard encountered when he entered the nexus. Still with me?"

Spock allowed his eyebrow to disappear into his hairline "Are you suggesting that James Kirk is still alive?"

Q smiled fondly and nodded his head in a most patronising manner, "At last!!! He does indeed exist at the point of space-time where he entered the nexus. And while he remains within it, he is in great danger. Lien is forced to expend vast amount of energy to travel through your space and time, but whilst inside the nexus, he is still very powerful. It is imperative that we get Kirk out of there before Lien comes for him."

Spock regarded the Q sceptically, "Why do you need my help?"

Q leaned back in his chair and stared right back at Spock before answering, "We believe that the damage to the nexus caused Lien's insanity. I am not willing to risk madness to retrieve Kirk, but I believe you would be. Further - your species has the advantage of being creatures anchored in time. That fact should allow you to exist within the damaged nexus - theoretically. And then there is the problem of Picard - Even I cannot be in two places at once. He and I are old friends. I want to take care of his protection personally."

Spock got up and began to pace the tiny room. He was remembering Picard's unexplained absence from the Memorial Service and wondering if Q was, in fact, already too late. "What is your plan?"

"Because Kirk is still in the nexus, Lien will go after Picard first. I will protect Picard while you are attempting to get Kirk out of the nexus. With both of his prey existing in your space, Lien will be forced to come out of his lair and that will weaken him further."

"And if I succeed in locating Kirk and removing him at his point of origin, will that not alter the time line allowing Dr Soran to destroy Veridian?"

"I don't believe so. The El-Aurian refugees existed within the nexus for only a few moments and yet they left behind echoes of themselves. The echo of Kirk that Picard meets should still exist."

Spock was still not convinced. "How will I know that I have located the real Captain Kirk?"

Q became quite animated. He leapt up from his chair and came round to stand in front of Spock. "By entering the nexus at the same point of space and time as he does. I can take you to the correct time but it will be up to you to arrive at the right place. If you agree to my plan, we must leave now."

Spock hesitated. He looked at Rodgers and his first officer through narrowed eyes. Basing his decision on data supplied by one very dubious source was dangerous, but if there was even a chance that Kirk was alive....

"I agree." He reached to grasp the hand held out to him. From the objective of Captain Rodgers, the two men disappeared in a flash of light.

"Captain Rodgers?" said the Fleming's First Officer in a bemused tone, "how the hell do we log this?"

"We don't." Rodgers sighed getting to his feet. "We wait until we have more facts."


	9. Shaking off the Mothballs

 

James T Kirk, former Captain of the Starship Enterprise NCC1701-A, now retired, pulled down the box from the top shelf of his closet and dumped it onto his bed. Instead of opening the box, he strode to the window, which overlooked the whole of San Francisco Bay. It was a beautiful clear and sunny day and the view was nothing short of spectacular. Kirk saw none of it. He stared blindly out over the sparkling waters of the bay to the gleaming white building on its shore - Starfleet Headquarters. Damn but he should have moved back to Iowa months ago.

This was not exactly his first taste of retirement. He'd given it his best shot, but no matter how contented he had been, eventually he had found himself unable to resist the siren song any longer and signed up again. Could that really have been nearly 9 years ago? This time, it had been much harder to adjust to civilian life; there had been no-one waiting for him at home. This time, that gleaming white building had mocked him every morning with its closeness and its inaccessibility. He had taken to leaving his bedroom curtains closed.

It had worked too. He hadn't thought about his old life for nearly four months. Which was why the call from Commanding Admiral Smiley a few minutes ago had come as such a shock. Kirk turned back to the bed and glowered at the box again. He was thinking about the last conversation he had had with Robert Smiley on the day he had resigned from Starfleet.

The Admiral's office was on the top floor of Starfleet HQ, affording it a fantastic view right out over the bay. Kirk knocked politely before pushing open the ancient oak door. Smiley was scrutinising a document, and absently indicated that Kirk should sit. Then he pushed the piece of paper towards Jim. It was his letter of resignation. Kirk glanced up and met the Admiral's eyes enquiringly.

"As Commanding Admiral of Starfleet I am required only to accept or decline this Jim, but as your friend, I'm required to ask why?"

Kirk leaned forward and picked up the paper, studying his own words carefully. Eventually he sighed and leant back in the chair, "30 years ago, when they gave me the Enterprise for the first time, I was young, full of romantic idealism and a real taste for adventure. Back then there really was a frontier to explore, a new challenge every day, and what I did out there really mattered."

Kirk's words were full of passion and fire, but then his tone changed to one of resignation. "Then they offered me the Admiralty and I guess I got caught up in all the glitter. 'Youngest Starfleet Captain ever becomes youngest Starfleet Admiral ever.' It went straight to my head and it was also the biggest mistake I ever made. Spock and Bones - they tried to warn me but I wouldn't listen. I spent the next two and a half years sitting behind a desk at Starfleet HQ wishing I was back out there."

Smiley stood and went over to an antique drinks cabinet. He selected a decanter of Saurian Brandy and two glasses

"Nogura gave you back the ship didn't he? I was only a Vice-Admiral at the time but the shock waves were immense. No other Admiral in the history of Starfleet had ever been given a five-year mission before. It made some of us think we could do it too."

Kirk accepted the glass and took a deep drink. "He had no choice. We had just saved the Earth from V'Ger and I guess he felt obliged to give me anything I wanted, but once that five year mission was over, I was right back behind a desk again. When it looked like they would loose me, they offered me a teaching commission at the Academy."

"You did a fine job there, Jim"

"I enjoyed it. Every time I opened that classroom door and saw all those fresh faced, eager cadets, it was like seeing the Universe through their eyes. Sometimes I could see aspects of me in one or two of them. The job was worthwhile but eventually I realized that it wasn't enough.

And things had changed in other ways too. I was 48 years old and had been an Admiral longer than a Captain. That was the day I decided to retire."

Smiley poured another two shots from the decanter and Kirk raised an eyebrow. No one ever got more than one slug of Smiley's Brandy. He swirled the amber liquid around in the huge glass then took a small sip "I went home, to Iowa. That was when I met Antonia. We bought a cabin in the mountains and settled down. Life was stress free and uncomplicated and I was happy."

"Yet less than three years later, you signed up again"

Kirk regarded his Commander over the rim of his glass. "I missed it Bob. Even an Admiral stuck behind a desk has at least the chance of making a difference every now and then. McCoy understood - he kept telling me I should get my command back before I really did grow old.

I wish the circumstances had been better, but I got my ship back - I even got myself demoted to Captain again. I can't explain how that felt Bob. Half my colleagues at the Admiralty felt sorry for me - they couldn't understand that for the first time in nearly 20 years - I was back where I belonged."

"What changed, Jim?"

"I did. I may have got my ship back, but at what price? David's death did something to me. After the business with Khitomer was over, I realized how jaded I'd become.

One of the more important characteristics a Starfleet Captain needs, is to have an open mind. My mind had closed so tight it prevented me seeing that I had become the very thing I had always hated - a commander out of touch with reality."

Kirk swallowed the last of his brandy and placed the glass carefully on Smiley's desk along with the letter of resignation. "There is no more frontier Bob. Captains nowadays are more diplomats than pioneers, more scientists than soldiers. I don't fit in anymore and I can't keep doing this to myself. McCoy has always told me I don't know when to quit - but he's wrong."

"I hate to loose you Jim. People like you are a rare commodity these days. The new Enterprise-B is under construction and we had hoped....."

"Bob - I really am too old to be careening through the galaxy. I appreciate the offer, but my mind is made up."

"Then the Enterprise will go to Captain Harriman. I believe he was one of your cadets?"

Kirk frowned in puzzlement as he tried to recall a cadet called Harriman, then shook his head sadly, "Now that really does make me feel old. Has he beaten my record?"

"Not quite - he's 31."

"31... I was never that young"

"Jim...."

"Bob - I've busted my ass for Starfleet for nearly 40 years and what do I have to show for it? An empty apartment. Times have changed and as the years go by, I find it harder and harder to change with them. No - its time to call it quits."

Kirk pushed the paper towards Bob Smiley "Will you sign it?"

Smiley picked up his antique fountain pen and dipped it in the inkwell. Kirk was gone before the ink was dry.

 

That had been 8 months ago. Now he walked slowly to the bed and laid a hand gently on the box. The USS Enterprise 1701-B was ready to be launched but Smiley hadn't called Jim just to tell him that. Kirk had detected a note of sheepishness in the Admirals voice despite his light tone.

"I was wondering Jim, are you busy next week? We'd like you to come on board for her maiden voyage."

"What's the matter Bob - don't you trust the new man?"

"Of course we do. After all - you trained him. But this will be the first time in 30 years a ship called Enterprise has flown without James T Kirk at the con. Seems like tempting fate."

"Oh cut the crap - this isn't about fate, it's about publicity. Sorry Bob - I just can't face that."

"Jim, you got me. Look - Harriman is a fine young captain, but he's not a popular public choice. He's only 31 years old. There are more than a few people waiting to see him fall flat on his ass."

"I was only 30 when they gave me the Enterprise".

"I know. And I know you met the same kind of prejudice. Remember?"

Kirk had nodded slowly. Yes he still remembered as if it were only yesterday, the jealous, sometimes angry looks from other officers with more experience and better service records than he.

"You know that Harriman is a good officer Jim, help us take the heat off him?"

And somehow Kirk found himself agreeing to do it. On one condition - he wasn't going to do it alone. Smiley had hung up with the promise that he would try to locate some other members of the old Enterprise crew to accompany him. No reason why he should suffer alone.

Now Kirk glanced down at the box beneath his hand. Slowly he lifted the lid and removed the thin protective layer of tissue. Not a particularly good form of protection in this age of layered plasticote shielding, but one that Kirk had always found comforting. Reverently, he lifted the maroon jacket out and held it up allowing the carefully folded sleeves to drop into place. "God I hope this still fits."


	10. The Nexus

  


 

Spock had no sense of time passing. One moment he was on the Bridge of the Fleming, and the next he was in a dark alley still holding the Q's hand. They were alone. Spock let his hand drop and glanced around him in surprise. "This looks remarkably like San Francisco."

Q stepped back smiling broadly, "It is. You must find a way of getting aboard the Enterprise without being seen. It is due to leave orbit as soon as Kirk completes his inspection."

Spock frowned in confusion. "I do not understand. Surely we should be in the nexus?"

"Really Spock - I thought I had already explained all this. You must enter the nexus at the same point in space-time as Kirk. You have to do the rest yourself. I've wasted enough time already - Picard is still in danger. If you are successful, the nexus should return you both to this point. I'll meet you here with Picard"

Spock stepped out of the alley into the bright afternoon sunlight. When he glanced back into the alley, Q was gone. He stood for a moment staring into the gloom when suddenly a familiar voice made him turn.

"Spock? My God, Spock - it is you!"

James Kirk, resplendent in his Starfleet uniform, had just emerged from his apartment building right next to where Spock was standing. The Vulcan experienced a moment of panic. In this time line, Spock had been home on Vulcan working on the finer details of the Khitomer Accord with his father. He had not seen Kirk since their retirement party on board the old Enterprise, and, he reminded himself grimly, would not see Kirk again. At least not in this time line.

Kirk was talking again, "Bob said he would try to get some of the old crew together but I never dreamed....you are here for the Enterprise B's maiden voyage?"

Spock thought fast. "No Captain. I am conducting some research for my work on the peace treaty, and as I was in the neighbourhood...."

Kirk's face fell for a moment. Then the familiar boyish grin came back. "You thought you'd drop in on your old pal? Well I'm afraid your timing is lousy Spock. I'm on my way up to Enterprise now. How about you walk with me?"

Spock fell into step beside Kirk. Perhaps he could use this situation to get on board the Enterprise but if memory served, the media would be there in force. He could not allow himself to be captured on camera.

Kirk was regarding Spock speculatively out of the corner of his eye. "I take it work on the treaty is a bit of a strain?"

"A strain?"

"You have some grey hairs Spock."

Spock's hand moved involuntary to his temple. A distraction was required before Kirk began to look more closely, "Indeed? I believe this is due more to working with my father than with the Klingons."

It worked. Kirk, at once shocked, and delighted, began to laugh.

It was a sound that Spock had dearly missed these last 80 years. And if this mission is successful? What then? Returning Kirk to this time line would alter the future. Spock realised with some degree of surprise that in agreeing to do this, he had been thinking with his heart and not his head. The logic of the situation hit Spock like a hammer blow. In order to preserve the future, would it ultimately be necessary for Kirk to die - again?

They had nearly reached the gates to the Starfleet Headquarters compound, and Spock realised he could go no further with his captain. He stopped and turned to his old friend.

"I have some business to attend to, Jim. Perhaps when the voyage is over we could meet?"

Kirk, who had taken another few steps before realising that the Vulcan had stopped walking, turned and regarded his friend through narrowed eyes. "Sure - the trip should take about 6 hours. Where will you be?"

Spock recalled a coffeehouse outside the main reception area that Kirk and he had often visited when they both worked at the Academy. "Darcy's?"

"Ok then, Darcy's. See you later Spock."

Before Spock could stop himself, he had raised his fingers in the traditional Vulcan salute. "Live long and prosper, my friend."

Then he turned and hurried off before Kirk could wonder why his parting words should sound hollow.

 

The Academy building was teeming with people as usual. Spock, however, knew ways of getting in without being spotted. He made his way cautiously to a small classroom at the back of the building. Using his pass to gain access he quickly checked the room and found it empty. This room was set up to resemble a transporter room at a starbase with a small transporter pad capable of beaming two people.

As expected, the control panel was locked off. Spock had not had reason to operate a transporter like this for many years, but it was a simple enough task to set the co-ordinates to beam him directly to the ship and then cover the activity so that his presence would not be detected. The difficulty was in finding the correct co-ordinates. One mistake and Spock could materialise inside a bulkhead or worse, in open space.

He activated the console scanners and fine turned them to select the area of the ship he had chosen. The panel before him ran through a series of co-ordinates then automatically flashed green on the most suitable one. Spock nodded and set the co-ordinates into the transporter matrix, then turned his considerable talent to the computer itself. Within a few seconds, all traces that he had ever been there were eliminated and the computer was primed to cover its own beaming activities.

Spock checked the scanners again for life forms in the vicinity of his beam-in site and found none. He hit the activate button and stepped up to the platform. A second later, the sparkling beam subsided and the transporter control panel quietly switched itself off.

Spock materialised behind a large stack of storage cubes in Cargo Bay Three. The cubes were piled from floor to ceiling giving Spock the impression of being in a narrow corridor. The sounds of studious pre-launch activity were all around him, but Spock knew that he was safe enough here. The site also had the advantage of being extremely close to a Jeffries tube through which Spock could access the area he ultimately needed to get to.

He regarded the stack of storage cubes in wonder. There were far too many here for a short trip round the solar system. Obviously it was Starfleet's intention to hurry this vessel into operation.

The ship-wide tannoy system announced at that moment, that the ship was about to leave earth's orbit and instructed all personnel to go to their duty stations. Had Spock been human, he may have congratulated himself on his perfect timing. This close to the engineering section, Spock could actually feel the huge starship's engines purr into life. He hurried into the tube and began to make his way through the ship towards Deck 15, section 21 alpha.

 

The Enterprise bucked and kicked against the pull of the nexus. Kirk was thrown first one way then another as the huge Starship tried to pull free. Scotty's voice sounded hesitant as he worked at his console.

"Captain - it may be possible to simulate a torpedo blast using a resonant burst from the main deflector dish."

The ship bucked again, and Kirk was thrown forwards into the command chair. Bracing himself against its arms, he turned to the young Ensign at the helm. Hikaru Sulu's daughter - Demora. "Where are the deflector relays?"

She did not hesitate. "Deck 15 section 21 Alpha."

Harriman began sprinting for the turbolift and shouted over his shoulder, "I'll go - you take the bridge."

Kirk sat down slowly in the command chair and felt its welcoming warmth seep through his body. It was like being wrapped in the arms of an old lover. For a moment he sat there, feeling that familiar rush of adrenaline making his heart pump faster. Then a little voice in the back of his mind shouted - let her go Jim. Before he could stop himself, his own voice echoed over the bridge,

"Wait!!!"

He looked briefly around at the once familiar stations and stood slowly. "Your place is on the bridge of your ship. I'll take care of it."

He stopped at the upper level as Harriman hurried past him, and turned to take in the bridge one last time. His eyes settled on Scotty working calmly at the deflector console. "Scotty, keep things together until I get back?"

"I always do", said the engineer. Grinning broadly, Kirk stepped backwards into the lift, his mind already focusing on the task in hand.

Kirk was breathing heavily by the time he reached the Deflector Relay Room located on Deck 15. More than once, during his headlong rush through the ship, he had been thrown off his feet or slammed into a bulkhead. Steam hissed from conduits, blinding him, and small electrical fires added their pall of smoke to the already poor visibility.

Nearing his destination, he was nearly ripped from the access ladder, as the ship lurched violently to starboard. Kirk hung on for grim death. When the ship righted itself, He quickly hurried down to the platform and tore off the access panel. The ship lurched again, and this time Kirk barely managed to find a handhold. The panel flew from his fingers, and crashed onto the deck below.

Kirk found himself on a narrow piece of platform with nothing to stop him falling. He stared down at the deck and prayed that the ship would remain still long enough for him to get up. It did. A few seconds later he had managed to expose the circuitry he needed.

He chided himself for being so unfit. All those years spent galloping around the cosmos, and now a gentle jog through the ship and he was actually panting. He made a mental note that when he got home, he was going to have to join a gym. After all, he was only 60, half way through the normal life span of a healthy human being. Time to do something about his health before he really did grow old.

He located the circuits and quickly scanned them trying to remember how to re-route their function. Time was of the essence here and Kirk did not allow himself to feel any self-doubt. Perhaps Scotty could do this quicker, but he was needed on the bridge. No, He would do the job, and do it in time. He always had before.

Spock watched in fascination from his position behind a bulkhead. He had always known that his Captain reacted to deadlines with a most single-minded determination, but seeing him take action like this had always filled Spock with a deep sense of admiration.

Scott's voice spoke from the wall speaker. "Bridge to Captain Kirk."

"Kirk here."

"I don't know how much longer I can hold it together."

Kirk did not take time to acknowledge the engineer's grim warning. His fingers flew over the circuit board, their motion almost blurring as he pulled out one chip after another and replaced them faultlessly. Then he lifted the heavy control board and slotted it back into position.

"That's' it - let's GO."

Harriman's voice echoed over the speaker, "Activate main deflector."

Spock felt the ship shake alarmingly as the beam flared out. Then Scotty's voice, sounding almost surprised, announced, "We're breakin' free!"

The Vulcan took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the bulkhead. Kirk had hauled himself to his feet despite the ship's lurching. Seeing the Vulcan, his mouth flew open.

"What the hell?"

When the energy ribbon reached out and grabbed the valiantly fighting Starship, both men's heads snapped round to watch in horror as a huge hole was ripped in the hull.


	11. Garden of Eden

Jean-Luc Picard returned to consciousness, aware that something was different. The first of his gradually returning senses was smell. Instead of the dank, putrid aroma of his prison cell, he could smell wild flowers.

Then came hearing. He could clearly discern the sound of a gurgling stream and more faintly, as if from a distance, the splash of a waterfall. Overhead a bird shrilled reminding Picard of a day at the seaside.

Beneath his fingers, he could feel the springy texture of grass. Cautiously he opened one eye. He was lying face down in the middle of a park or meadow. The sight was unbelievably beautiful to Picard after his long incarceration. Surely this was not a creation of the Q? It was like being back in the nexus again.

Picard rolled painfully onto his back and stared up at the incredibly blue sky until the blinding sunlight brought tears to his eyes. Yes this was definitely like the nexus - it had that same perfect daydream like quality about it. Picard managed to drag his hand up to shade his eyes. Now fully conscious, he looked around.

The Q sat under a gnarled oak tree, a blade of grass sticking out of his mouth. "Breathtaking isn't it?" he said with no real warmth.

Picard rolled onto his side, unable to find a position that was comfortable due to the extent of his bruising. He propped his head on one hand. Now that his eyes were more accustomed to the light, he could see hundreds of flowers and trees all around him, their scents intermingling on the gentle breeze. He heard a faint splash and turned in time to see a fish the size of a salmon, leap out of the stream and catch jade green dragonfly in its mouth.

Sunlight reflected off the fish's scales like a flash of antique silver. The ripples startled a deer drinking on the other bank. It bolted in confusion. A huge red and brown butterfly landed near to Picard on a sapphire blue flower only to take to the air again when a fat yellow bee staked its prior claim.

Suddenly a shadow fell over him. "It will be a shame to destroy such beauty, we have nothing like this in the continuum."

Picard squinted up at the Q. "Then why do it?"

Was it his imagination, or did his captor look tired? As Picard watched, the Q rubbed wearily at his eyes then sank down onto the soft grass beside the captain.

He sat cross-legged, staring off into the distance for a long time before fixing Picard with his ice-cold gaze. "Your mind has furnished me with this place - you call it 'The Garden of Eden' and it represents the beginning of mankind to you. I think it fitting that it should now also represent the end of mankind. This will be the stage from where I launch my final revenge."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Lien, although I fail to see what good the knowledge will do you. Very soon you will be dead. But first, I intend to bring Kirk here. He must also witness the end of every life in this Universe."

Picard shook his fuzzy head to clear it and immediately wished he hadn't. A sharp pain throbbed at his temples. Had the Q said he was going to bring Kirk here? Kirk was dead. The words themselves had been spoken with such deadly calm, that it was easy to detect the thread of insanity running through them.

Things began to coalesce in Picard's mind. Whatever he had allegedly done to this being, it had happened whilst he was in the nexus and he was growing more convince by the minute, that he was back in there now. But what was this about Kirk? Was it possible that the Q did not know that Kirk was dead?

The sun was beating down on Picard's head, making it impossible to think straight. His throat constricted tightly with thirst. The sound of the bubbling stream came into sharp focus until its melodic splashing filled his entire being.

He tried to haul his tired and battered body towards the sound, but Lien barred his way. "That's the spirit Picard, waste your energy crawling about on your hands and knees."

The Q laughed maniacally, but his mirth was short lived and dissolved into a fit of coughing. It took a long time for Lien to catch his breath and when he did, his eyes were red and watering. Picard was careful not to let his pleasure at the other man's discomfort show.

"Rest now mortal," wheezed Lien, "I will return soon...with Kirk." And Picard was alone in his own private paradise.

He pushed himself to sit up and weakly hauled his battered body over to the shade of the oak tree. Letting his back rest against its ancient trunk, he thought quickly. The Q's hasty disappearance suggested to Picard that it was he, not the captain that needed to rest.

Perhaps this could be used against him somehow. Picard's exhaustion began to cloud his thought processes again and he let his head tip back against the tree trunk.

He fought the effects as best he could but the gentle breeze and melodic sound of the waterfall had a soporific effect on the weakened Starfleet captain. This place really looked like the Garden of Eden all right. All it needed was.... he forced his eyes open and stared into the leafy canopy overhead - at a single red apple.


	12. Crossroads

 

Awareness came to the Vulcan slowly. When finally he could open his eyes, he was met with an impression of nothingness that was quite impossible to describe using words alone. He appeared to be floating in a vast grey void, which extended all around and beneath him. There were no sensory stimuli present at all. Spock's mind cast around, futilely searching for something to fix on to. But there was nothing.

After a few seconds, his sub-conscious mind took over, searching his memories for some kind of comparison. As those memories began to fill the void, Spock nodded slowly.

So this is how it works. Faced with a void, the healthy mind will always supply an alternative - not unlike daydreaming. Fascinating

The thought had barely coalesced in his mind when the greyness before him wavered and he found himself standing in his mother's garden. No daydream, no hallucination could be as real as this. He could smell roses and feel the warm desert breeze against his cheeks. He could hear the faint cry of a silver bird as it caught a desert updraft and soared overhead.

He reached down and touched the petals of his mother's favourite rosebush and winced when he accidentally brushed against a thorn. A tiny point of green blood sprung from the puncture hole on his forefinger. Even being prepared for this, Spock was genuinely shocked by the allure of this situation. He knew exactly what point in time the nexus had brought him to.

This was the day, so many years ago, that Spock had told his father he was entering Starfleet. Knowing that this was all a very sophisticated illusion did not prevent Spock from wondering what it would be like to enter the fantasy and actually live his life over again. To do things differently, to perhaps heal the rift that had opened between himself and his father due to the choice he had made this night.

Spock saw now why Kirk had not fought the illusion. Starfleet had been his entire life - and once that life was over, he had been left with a huge void in his life. The nexus offered Kirk his life back, and more, the chance to live it over and over again, any way he saw fit. A most compelling situation.

"Spock? Your father's waiting in his study."

He turned at the sound of his mother's voice. She stood just outside the door to their home, silhouetted against the sun's bright light. Spock experienced a moment of deep sadness. If he allowed his subconscious mind to take over now, he could step into this illusion and be with his mother again. Spock shook his head. Illogical - his mother had been dead for over 60 years and there was nothing to be gained from living in the past. His life story was already written - he had very few regrets.

Realising that he had already taken several halting steps towards the figure in the doorway, Spock turned and headed for the gate at the bottom of the garden that lead into the desert. He had a mission to accomplish, he must focus on that. Jim Kirk's life depended on it.

 

James Kirk swung the axe high over his head brought it down with a resounding whack onto the piece of wood. It fractured cleanly down the middle leaving the axe embedded in the chopping block. Jim smiled. It had been a very long time since he had last chopped wood. Nice to know he still had the knack.

He straightened and sucked in a lungful of the crisp mountain air. This was the life. Jim wondered why he had ever left. A sense of disorientation hit him as he struggled with the fleeting memory. It had something to do with....Starfleet. Yes that was it. He had left this place to return to his career in Starfleet. And yet here he was. This was his cabin, the one he had shared with Antonia.

Kirk swung the axe again. Whack. Somewhere overhead he could hear the shrill cry of an eagle. The feeling of displacement began to recede as he concentrated on the task of chopping firewood. Why worry? The sun was hot and the sky was blue. What more could a man ask for?

As the axe split another chuck of wood, Kirk became aware that he was not alone. He shaded his eyes from the sun's glare as he watched the man emerge from the forest.

"Good morning Captain," said Spock. Kirk let the axe drop at his feet.

"Spock? You..." he trailed off in confusion. Spock couldn't be here at his cabin. This wasn't how it happened.

The Vulcan looked over Kirk's shoulder at the log cabin and raised an eyebrow. He did not recognise the structure. However if his own experience within the Nexus was any judge, this must constitute a turning point in his friend's life, one that the Captain was now at liberty to alter.

"How long have you been here Jim?"

Kirk shrugged. "I - don't know Spock. Last thing I remember - I was on the Enterprise B at the deflector relay station, the bulkhead in front of me disappeared... and...."

Spock took a step towards his friend, but Kirk backed away. "You were there Spock - on the Enterprise. I - don't understand."

"It is quite a long story Jim."

Kirk backed up to the cabin door. In confusion he placed his hand on the doorframe. "This place - Its like going back in time. This is the day I told Antonia that I was going back to Starfleet. Nine years ago. My God Spock - its exactly the same except - except you weren't here."

And with that, Kirk disappeared inside. Spock hesitated. If he were to take Kirk out now - would he be altering the future? This went against every moral fibre of Spock's being. It should be a simple matter of logic but his thought processes seemed somehow to be addled by a very human and yet very familiar emotion.

Stepping through the doorway, Spock found himself in a kitchen. Kirk was cracking eggs into a pan. "Jim we have to go back."

"Go back. Go back where Spock? I don't understand what's happening here but I do know that I belong here. No, you run along back to Starfleet. Look me up on your next shore leave..."

Spock closed his hand around Kirks wrist with considerable force. "I can't leave without you Jim. Look around. You know this cannot be real. Trust me."

Kirk jerked his arm free. He dropped the pan back onto the stove and strode to the window. " I've been given a second chance, Spock. I don't know why, and frankly I don't care. I can make things right - this time I won't leave her." He wheeled round to face Spock, "I won't leave."

Spock knew he was out of time. He could feel his sub-conscious mind running through scenarios. Stay here, make a new life, don't loose Jim again.... He looked into his friends' eyes and saw the pain and confusion written there.

"Believe me, Jim if any of this were real ...."

Spock reached for the juncture of Kirk's neck and shoulder that would render him unconscious. As Kirk buckled, the reality in which they existed dissolved into blackness. Spock was aware of a blinding flash of light before the darkness claimed them both. That - and the faint sound of an axe chopping wood.

Lien stood in the doorway and watched in horror as the Vulcan reached for Kirk's shoulder. The shock of seeing Spock here had frozen him to the spot. No sooner had the fingers made contact, than the world around the Q dissolved into shards of blinding light. He clutched at his head and screamed in agony.

"No!!!!!"

It was a very long time before he could think again. Kirk, and his chance of revenge, were gone leaving a dark streak of black space penetrating his tunnel of light. Tiny points of starlight twinkled mockingly at him through the jagged rip.

Fighting down his rising nausea, Lien staggered back from the tear and tried to consider his options (such that they were). He still had Picard and enough power to destroy this universe, but he wanted Kirk too. It wasn't enough just to kill him, he had to suffer first, like Picard had. If he ventured out of the nexus, he would become weak and vulnerable to attack but he had no option - he had to find Kirk - it would probably drain every ounce of strength he had left, but he would not let Kirk escape him again. All he needed was some time to grow strong again.

He smiled a cold smile. It would seem that Picard had a bit longer to live.


	13. Veridian III

 

Spock stirred, as he became aware of a sharp pain in his side. His gradually returning senses told him that he was lying on sharp rocks and sand. The fierce sun was beating down on him. Suddenly, fully conscious, Spock sat bolt upright. He scanned the desolate area. Obviously this was not San Francisco, Spock made the logical deduction - this was Veridian III. But at what point in time?

They were in a narrow gully of red rock and sparse vegetation. To the right, extended a shear rock face some 100 meters high and to the left, a strange metal platform perched on top of another cliff. Spock cautiously moved out of the gully and found himself in a flat open area. High on another platform dead ahead, stood a missile launcher. A narrow iron bridge spanned overhead, connecting one platform to the other. Spock's keen Vulcan hearing picked up the sound of voices issuing from the ridge to his right.

The first voice was one he had never heard before. "Just who the hell are you?"

Although he could not see over the high ridge, he knew that the second voice belonged to Jean-Luc Picard. "He's James T Kirk. Don't you read history?"

There was the sound of a scuffle, then Picard's voice again, "I've got to get to that launcher...."

Spock didn't wait to hear anymore. He hurried back into the shadows where Jim was beginning to regain consciousness.

It would appear that Q had been correct in his assessment of the time line. Kirk was removed from the nexus, and yet his echo remained intact. Even at the point of no return, Spock had been unsure of the theory, and yet he had still gone ahead.

But the nexus had failed to return them to the correct time line. It seemed that Picard had caused a rip in the fabric of the nexus though which Spock and Kirk had now fallen, arriving on Veridian at the same point in time as the other two men. If that was so, and Spock grew more convinced every second, they were in a great deal of trouble. The time line may be intact, but there was a new problem.

Spock's knowledge of the events that had lead to his friend's death was sketchy at best, but he did know that in a few moments, the essence of James T Kirk would die - history would record the event. But history would be wrong. Kirk's presence in this century created a paradox. There was no time to evaluate the ethics of the situation - Kirk was beginning to stir.

As the Vulcan helped him to sit up, Kirk rubbed his neck gingerly. "What hit me Spock?"

He was considering how to answer that question when his keen Vulcan hearing picked up the faint sound of voices from the platform above them on the left. Grabbing Kirk by the arm, he ducked behind a rock. Spock could not be sure, but he thought he had recognised Kirk's voice.

"Spock?" Kirk was rapidly regaining his equilibrium, and with it, his ill humour. "You nerve pinched me didn't you?"

He stared at his friend in disbelief. "Captain - you must be silent. We cannot risk detection."

"Detection?... from whom?"

" Jim, please be quiet, or I will be forced to render you unconscious again."

Kirk's hand flew back to his neck again, but the threat had the desired effect. The captain crouched beside his friend and looked around. Once, as a child, Jimmy Kirk and his brother Sam had gone camping with their father in Arizona. The red dusty terrain and scrubby plants made Kirk wonder if he was back there now. He glanced at Spock. His old friend had some explaining to do when this was over.

The Vulcan seemed to be listening intently to the faint sounds of a struggle in the region of the overhead platform. Kirk wished he had the advantage of ears designed to pick up sounds in the thin air of a desert planet. Then a spray of loose rocks and shingle dislodged itself from overhead and showered down on the two men.

Kirk shaded his eyes and stepped back from the rock wall to get a glimpse of the action. Spock stood rooted to the spot, his eyes locked on his friend's face. He watched as curiosity was replaced by shock, then confusion, and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Kirk had recognised one of the antagonists. Kirk let his hands drop to his sides and shifted his gaze from the incredible events above, to the Vulcan's face.

Suddenly there was the sound of a fist connecting with a jaw, and a white haired, black clad man tumbled backwards over the cliff face. Kirk leapt back into the gully and pressed himself against the rock wall. He waited for the distinctive thump of a body hitting the ground, but it didn't come.

Spock peered cautiously around the cliff. Dr Soran was dangling high above him from a length of rope. As he watched, Soran produced a control pad and aimed it at the missile launcher. A cloaking field sprung up around the device.

Spock tried to make out the conversation now coming from his left, but the voices were too faint. The rope supporting Soran suddenly slipped, and the control pad fell from his hands. It clattered down the cliff, and finally settled on the narrow, iron bridge high above Spock's head.

Spock backed into the gully a few steps and turned to look at Kirk. Jim was glaring at him angrily. "That was me up there wasn't it?"

"Jim I cannot explain this to you fully - the situation is somewhat desperate, and we are not meant to be here."

"Time travel?"

"That explanation will suffice. It is imperative that we do nothing to alter the time-line. Will you trust me?"

Jim regarded his friend steadily. There was no one in the Universe he trusted more. He nodded.

Suddenly they could hear the sound of footsteps running over the metal bridge. Spock mentally reviewed the data he had on the circumstances of Kirk's death, and knew that the moment was near. Jim had moved to the edge of the gully and was watching intently as a mirror image of himself pounded over the bridge.

A bolt of green energy flared from somewhere to his left, and hit the bridge, causing his doppelganger to falter. He gasped, and only the Vulcan's hand, firmly clamped onto his arm, prevented him from running forward.

Another bolt of green sheared the bridge in half. Still anchored at both ends, it collapsed in the middle, and the other Kirk began to slide slowly towards the edge. Somehow he managed to hold on, and even began to crawl back up. The metal rivets anchoring the bridge were screaming in protest, and the whole structure swayed alarmingly.

Jim felt every muscle in his body tense at the spectacle overhead. He could feel Spock trying to pull him back into the gully, but he was firmly rooted to the spot.

"Jim, we must take cover," the Vulcan hissed in his ear. The Captain's eyes snapped around to meet Spock's and saw something flicker in them. Sympathy? He frowned. Then a movement on the bridge caught his attention and he turned back.

Another man, dressed strangely in black and red, had appeared, and was offering the mirror Kirk his hand. For a moment, it didn't look like he was going to make it, but with a super human effort, he finally locked his hand around Kirk's wrist.

Then the two men stood at the other side of the now wrecked bridge and scanned the horizon. The strangely dressed one glanced back at the bridge, "We're running out of time. Look - the control pad, its still on the other side."

"I'll get it - you go for the launcher."

Picard shook his head slowly "No, you'll never make that yourself - we have to work together."

"We are working together - trust me."

The strangely dressed man smiled and nodded at Kirk. "Good luck Captain."

"Call me Jim."

In the gully below, Jim turned back to his friend and whispered, "Who is that?"

"Captain Jean-Luc Picard."

"I don't recognise the uniform. Is he Starfleet? What ship is he with?"

Spock hesitated. If he took the time to explain the situation to Kirk, perhaps he could distract his friend from what was about to happen. He took a deep breath, but Kirk raised his hand, "Never mind. I'm sure it's a long story, and one I'm looking forward to hearing - later."

Jim turned back and watched, as his double reached the destroyed central section of bridge. He stood gazing calmly at the control pad, as if it were right in front of him and not some five feet away, on the other side of a dangerously listing bridge. He braced himself as best he could, and took several deep breaths, trying to focus his energy on the task.

Then he leaped, and below him, Jim knew with bone-deep certainty, that he wasn't going to make it. But he did - just. Jim let out the breath he had been holding in a whoosh. High above him, Kirk's legs dangled over the edge, but he had a firm grasp of the bridge.

Suddenly the noise of shearing metal became almost ear splitting, and Jim watched as the rivets holding the structure began to give way. The control pad shook free, and hurtled towards Kirk who grabbed it, leaving him only one hand to hold on with. He swung himself round and aimed the device at the launch site.

Jim found himself mentally cheering as the missile sparkled into existence, but his relief was short lived. The bridge finally shook itself free from its moorings. Only Spock's lightning reflexes saved him, as the metal structure hurtled down towards them.

As the swirling dust began to settle, Spock realised that Kirk was running towards the fallen bridge. "No Jim don't...."

The Captain stopped at the pile of mangled wreckage, and stared in horror at the figure trapped within it. Spock appeared at his side but Jim could not tear his gaze away from the grisly sight. Blood trickled steadily from the mirror image of his own mouth.

He felt the Vulcan's hand come to rest gently on his shoulder. "We should go."

Dr Soran's voice shouted loudly from somewhere ahead, "Picard... get away from that launcher... NOW."

Kirk stumbled backwards unable to make his suddenly weak legs obey his minds command, but Spocks' steady strength reached out to sustain him. "No man should witness his own death Jim. I am sorry."

Then both men were violently hurled to the ground by the shock wave from a huge explosion. Spock, recovering quickly, pulled Kirk to his feet and dived behind a large rock.

High above them, Captain Jean-Luc Picard reached the top of the ridge and gasped. The bridge on which he had left Kirk was lying at the foot of the gully, a twisted, mangled wreck. Picard hurriedly began his descent, hoping blindly that Kirk was alive. A small and coldly logical voice in the back of his mind warned - no man could survive a fall like that - not even the living legend.

Now at the foot of the gully, Picard desperately peered into the wreckage and felt his breath catch in his throat. Even as he pulled some of the twisted metal free, he knew he was too late. Kirk's eyes fluttered open, and he even managed a small smile. "Did we - do it? Did we - make - a difference?" he whispered.

Picard knew then, that there was no way he could save this man. Before his very eyes, James T Kirk was dying, and there was nothing he could do to make his passing any easier. Or maybe there was, "Oh yes, we made a difference - thank you."

Kirk's eyes began to grow dim. "Least I could do - for the captain - of the Enterprise."

Picard tried hard to smile reassuringly at the bloodied face. He had to lean forward to hear the last words Kirk spoke, they were so faint. "It was - fun."

Suddenly Kirk's features slackened with the realisation that he was about to die. He seemed surprised. "Oh my..."

And the light in those bright hazel eyes went out. Picard felt his eyes prick with the sting of unshed tears, which he choked back with the greatest of difficulty. He sagged down onto his knees, and let his forehead rest on the cold metal. Behind a large boulder only a few feet away, Spock clutched at his temples, and tried to hold in the scream of anguish caused by the sudden severing of a deep mental bond.

 

High overhead, the Nexus passed by, a fiery blazing tendril of energy, a ribbon of light that lit the sky with orange and red pyrotechnics. Captain Picard, on the surface of Veridian III, watched its passage with deep relief.

And inside the nexus, Jean-Luc also sighed with relief. The vision of Eden had not vanished with Lien.

One thing about the Garden of Eden - there was no shortage of food or water. He had found a shallow pool at the base of a waterfall and thankfully slid into it. He sat now, half in and half out of the crystal clear water, picking at the core of that single red apple with relish. In his weakened state, Picard's imagination was running full throttle and he was sure that any moment now God would appear and cast him out of paradise.

But it was not God who appeared at pool's edge but Lien. He looked almost as haggard as Picard imagined himself to look which gave the Captain some measure of comfort. He dropped the core and watched it for a moment as the rippling water carried it towards the waterfall. Then it was dragged under by the current and vanished from sight. Lien looked out over the pool in confusion.

"This is not right!" he gasped. One faltering step brought him to the bank and slipping, he fell into the water beside Picard. He remained there for a moment, breathing hard before turning his confused gaze on the captain. "You should have returned to the cell. How is this illusion being maintained? Surely you cannot be doing it yourself?"

Picard allowed himself to slide forward until his head disappeared under the water. He came up feeling somewhat refreshed and even managed a wry smile. "I do believe you are having difficulty controlling everything Lien. If I may say so - you look a little tired."

Lien hauled himself and the still weak Captain out of the pool and clutched at the other man's shoulders. He had a look of a madman about him and Picard shuddered. He was well aware how dangerous that made his tormentor. He decided to tread carefully. Lien had released him and was staring at him in astonishment.

"You think you're very clever don't you Picard? Figured it all out have you? Well think again! You cannot escape me - this time you cannot just walk out of the nexus any time you like. This reality exists in my mind. It will not allow you to leave."

He sighed and seemed to waver for a moment. "You may as well keep this reality - drink, eat and grow strong again. I don't want you to die too soon Picard - not before I can find Kirk. You have a little longer to live."

And he was gone. Picard's legs gave way and he sunk down onto the soft grass, but he was smiling. He had just had several things confirmed to him. They were in the nexus, Kirk was missing and Lien was getting weaker. That gave Picard an advantage.

While Lien was looking for Kirk, he was here, resting and surrounded by food and water. His strength would come back to him even as Liens' faded. Picard had found something he had been lacking before - hope.


	14. Answers

The sun had begun to set. They huddled in a small cave on the other side of the gully, about as far away from the recent events as Kirk could get, while half carrying the stricken Vulcan. They could not afford the luxury of a fire. About an hour ago, Federation shuttles had arrived at Veridian III.

Kirk had no idea why they were there, but the Vulcan had said it was important to remain undetected. To Kirk, only a few hours had passed since he had been standing in the deflector relay room on board the Enterprise. Then he had returned to his mountain cabin, been torn from there to materialise here, on this strange planet, and then witnessed himself die. That was the hardest part to take in. How could he be dead and still here? It didn't make any sense.

And what about Spock? Kirk looked at his friend with concern. Spock seemed to have lapsed into a state of shock, his eyes were huge and luminous in the moonlight, his breathing shallow. Obviously, he had suffered some kind of mental trauma. Kirk had no idea how to help him.

Seeing that Spock had begun to shiver, Kirk removed his now filthy Starfleet jacket, and draped it carefully over the Vulcan's shoulders. Spock grasped the edges of the jacket, and pulled them tightly over his chest. Kirk knelt down in front of him and grasped his shoulders.

"Spock - I need some answers. What's going on?"

The Vulcan stirred and turned slowly to face Kirk. His eyes were hollow and sunken. He looked like a man that had just been through the fires of hell. "I did not think it was possible to survive that much mental pain - twice."

Spock was rubbing his temples. Kirk let his fingers close over the Vulcan's hand and squeezed gently. "What happened?"

"Our bond - I felt it severed."

"This is not the first time I've been a king-size headache to you old friend."

Spock was gradually recovering. A faint green tinge had begun to colour his face again. His deep eyes met Kirk's, and glittered in the moonlight. Spock's fingers felt feverish to the human, whose natural body temperature was several degrees below that of the desert dwelling Vulcanoids. If nothing else, it reassured him that his friend was not suffering from exposure.

Suddenly Spock moved his fingers, so that it was he that clasped his Captain's hands. "Jim. Would you permit...?"

Kirk knew what the Vulcan wanted and quickly nodded so that his friend would not have to voice the words. Settling himself on a low rock, Kirk took a deep breath and prepared himself for the mind meld.

Spock also took a deep steadying breath. He clasped his hands together with his index fingers steepled. Then his slim fingers reached for the contact points on Kirk's face that would confirm to him once and for all if the link between them had gone. He admitted to himself, in the seconds before he touched Jim Kirk's mind that he was afraid - afraid that he would not find that which he so desperately sought.

A few seconds later Kirk became aware of the world around him again. He existed as a separate entity within it. He felt the contact of icy fingers on flesh slowly slacken, and was aware that the Vulcan had released him. But he could still feel the reassuring presence deep within his mind. He opened his eyes and locked gazes with Spock. His expression asked, Well?

Spock did not speak, so Kirk was faintly startled to hear the Vulcan's voice echoing within his own mind. We are still one.

Spock returned Kirk's relieved smile. It was an extraordinary and deeply moving sight, for which Kirk gave thanks. Then he straightened, and almost regretfully, began to school his features back into that implacable Vulcan mask he so often wore. Now, almost fully recovered from the trauma, he cocked an eyebrow at his old friend.

"I believe I managed to convey the basics of our situation to you during our meld, however I assume there are still some questions remaining. Please feel free to ask them."

Kirk took a deep breath, and smiling, let it out slowly. "Who exactly is Seleya?"

 

Just after dawn, they began their careful descent into the valley, dodging from sight whenever a shuttle flew overhead. On their way down the mountain, they had caught glimpses of the huge 40-mile furrow, gouged into the planets' surface by the saucer section of the Enterprise-D. Kirk had shuddered. He could still vividly recall the death of his own Enterprise, as it had burned like a comet in the atmosphere of the Genesis Planet.

He wondered if this other Captain - Jean-Luc Picard, had witnessed his ship's demise. He hoped not. No Captain should have to witness the death of his ship. Nor his own death come to think of it, thought Jim wryly. Spock had been right about that. Kirk was having difficulty coming to terms with some of the things he had learned during the meld, and had decided to use his old command formula of seeking out physical activity, to take his mind off difficult issues.

They were still approximately 3 weeks in Spock's past. Somehow, they had to avoid detection until that time had passed, but Veridian III was now teeming with salvage crews. So far, they had avoided detection by being miles away from the crash site. The shuttles looking for Enterprise survivors had concentrated their searches in the vicinity of the ship itself, and now that the survivors were all gone, it was not likely that they would be detected.

Kirk had stood at the entrance of their tiny cave and watched as Veridian's sun began its slow climb through the sky. He had turned to the unusually quiet Vulcan and sighed, "First order of business Mr Spock - survival. Can we remain here for 3 weeks with no supplies?"

"Unlikely. The nearest source of water on the planet is in the valley below. A valley, that is at present, crawling with Federation personnel. There is no telling how long the salvage operation will take. We cannot depend on rescue by Q either. After all, he assumed our point of exit would be approximately 80 years ago. It may take him some time to locate us."

"So - we have to get off this planet somehow, without being discovered, and find somewhere to lie low for almost a month. Seems straightforward enough. Mr Spock, how much experience have you had at breaking into Starfleet Shuttles?"

Spock had favoured his friend with that familiar cocked eyebrow. "Really Captain, such behaviour is unbefitting to a Federation Ambassador."

Although Spock had some doubts that the plan would work, he recognised his friend's need to take action. In the past, Kirk had often achieved results that the Vulcan could not have imagined using logic alone. He had long since admitted that, in many cases, the human ability to leap beyond logic and act purely on an instinctual level had great merit.

So now he followed his friend down the mountain, for the moment content not to think about the real problem. The paradox of Kirk's existence in this time line could wait.


	15. McBain

Alfred Constantine McBain cursed, and slapped the faulty communications panel in disgust. He was definitely picking up a distress call on a Federation frequency, but as usual, his hopelessly antiquated ship was letting him down. Sometimes, a sharp kick or slap startled the circuits back on line, but this time, the control board merely hissed at him.

McBain cursed again, this time in Klingoneese, then tried an ancient Ferengi expletive while shaking the board in frustration. His fat, ruddy face broke into a delighted grin when suddenly the background distortions and static abated, to leave the frequency relatively clear. It was a voice-only transmission coming from Starbase 10 through a series of relay stations. He listened intently to the faintly accented voice issuing from the speakers.

McBain had developed a peculiar talent over the years. He could tell a lot about a person by just hearing their voice. Right now, he was forming a mental image of the person who was speaking.

Bolian, Prduek province, High born - probably of the clan Shalmak'lar.

He could probably have identified the individual's ruling family, given time, but right now, the words themselves were of more interest.

The Bolian was asking for aid from any ships in the vicinity of Veridain III. It appeared that a Federation Starship had crash-landed there. McBain's beady eyes lit up.

A Starship? Think of what all that state-or-the-art technology would be worth?

His mind began to cycle through a mental list of contacts that would be interested in acquiring that kind of merchandise.

Arak - the Ferengi arms dealer- certainly. The renegade Klingon Mordak and his green skinned consort, Leyana - definitely. Maybe even the Cardassians?

The possibilities were endless. McBain hastily checked his Navcom. He could be there in 40 minutes, if this space-borne, compost heap of a ship didn't break down on him. Overt looting was not a viable option. The place would be swarming with security. His best bet was to volunteer to join the rescue parties, then help himself to the technology when no one was looking.

He crossed his chubby fingers and sent his message of compliance. The irritating, female voice of his shipboard computer informed him that the transmission had been successful. McBain quickly tapped the co-ordinates into the helm, and sat back in his chair, which squealed in protest. He didn't notice.

His entire life had constituted a series of knock-backs and disappointments ever since he had first signed on a freighter at age 14, but he had always believed that one day his ship would come in. And today it had - both literally and figuratively.

 

Reaching the edge of the valley, they made stealthy progress through the thickening belt of trees and undergrowth. Spock suddenly froze and beckoned Kirk to stop. Too faint for human hearing, the voices came from a break in the trees some distance away.

Quietly the two men picked their way forward and came to the clearing in a matter of minutes. A small, shabby, interstellar craft sat in its centre. The voices belonged to the vehicle's pilot, and three Starfleet Security Officers.

The tallest of the officers spoke in a tone of command. "Look friend, I can't make it any more plain to you - if you won't follow Starfleet procedures, then we can't use your help, Okay?"

The pilot, a small, stocky man, with very little in the way of hair, was shaking his head. "Starfleet procedures!" His words dripped scorn. "I got no time for rules and regulations buddy. They said they needed ships and pilots so here I am. Been in the salvage business for near on 50 years now with no complaints from no-one - till now."

The Officer rubbed his forehead in a gesture that spoke both of exhaustion and irritation. "This isn't some piece of space garbage pal. It's a Federation Starship. You follow Starfleet procedures or you leave. Understood?"

McBain regarded the man through narrowed eyes. Human - American, possibly from Chicago. Looks about 40. Definitely a career soldier. Impossible to bribe.

"I hear you buddy. Can't see what all the fuss is about. I know my job."

"That's what worries me. Look we don't need privateers sloping off with Starfleet technology under the guise of salvage. My orders are to ensure that this ship gets back to Starfleet HQ in its entirety. That might mean in several thousand pieces, and it may take me the next 10 years to accomplish, but Enterprise will make it home. Do I make myself quite clear?"

The stocky man shrugged and hitched one foot onto the front of his craft. "As crystal. You won't find so much as a pincer clip missing from your precious ship. Well it's been a blast but I really gotta get moving. I shoulda had this stuff up to the Hood twenty minutes ago."

The Security officer favoured his antagonist with one final icy glare. "Rest assured, I will be checking with the Hood. If you don't make your rendezvous - I'll hunt you down myself."

Then he turned and strode off, his men falling into step behind him. McBain gave a toothy grin and mock saluted his retreating back. "Starfleet bloody regulations. That boy's gonna disappear up his own ass one of these days."

With that, he turned and reached for the button that would activate the door release. His hand froze an inch from the button as he sized up the two men that seemed to have come out of no-where.

The tall one - obviously Vulcan, well dressed, from a high family. Can't place his region unless he speaks. Hair too long for Starfleet - so he's a civilian. Still there is a military bearing about him. The other one - Human, again not Starfleet - if that's a uniform, I don't recognise it. But he is a soldier - has an air of command about him. Looks amused, but that's an act. He's tense - tightly controlled....

McBain let his hand drop to his side, and regarded the men through narrowed eyes.

They've been roughing it. Some stubble on the short one's chin, hair untidy, clothes dirty. Are they Enterprise survivors? Cant be - the last of them went up hours ago.

It had taken many trips, ferrying the walking wounded up to the orbiting medical ships, transporters being used only to move the more seriously injured. MaBain had grudged every minute of the wasted time, but had to grin and bear it. If security had become suspicious of his motives, he would have been kicked off planet with nothing more valuable that a wave goodbye.

Not survivors then. Must have come out of the forest. Opposite direction from crash site. So who the hell are they?

"Good morning. I wonder if we might have a moment of your time?"

Central American - Iowa? He's been around a lot - the accent is nearly gone.

The Vulcan was calmly examining his ship's battered hull plates. "Is this vehicle space worthy?"

Ah-ha - Shikahr province. Probably born in the capital itself. And definitely aristocratic.

McBain mentally applauded himself but the shorter man was speaking again "My friend asked you a question sir?"

"Who wants to know?"

"My name is.....Harry. Harry Mudd."

He's lying - hesitated too long on the name.

"And my friend is Solkar, a Vulcan trader in Kevas and Lithium."

He's used that line before - but it's still a line.

"We seem to be - um - temporarily without transportation Mr...?"

Two can play at that game. "Caesar, Julius Goddamned Caesar. Pleased to meet ya."

The Vulcan raised a puzzled eyebrow and turned to his companion. "Quite clearly a falsehood."

McBain laughed - a noise more like the death wheeze of a fatally stabbed man than one of genuine mirth. "If you boys need a lift, it'll cost you."

The two exchanged a quick look then the Vulcan reached into the folds of his robe and withdrew a phaser. Aiming it at McBain's head, he said calmly. "Failing to comply with our requests, will cost you - your life."

McBain gaped at the Vulcan as if he had just sprouted wings and proclaimed himself to be the Archangel Gabriel.

The shorter man seemed surprised too. He turned to his companion, and said affectionately, "I don't think that will be necessary Mr Solkar. Our new friend Julius won't give us any trouble... will you?"

The hazel eyes drilled into McBain's skull.

Not a question - an order. These two are definitely ex-military.

He shook his head reluctantly. "No trouble at all."

He reached out and pressed the door release button. Nothing happened. Cursing in Andorian, McBain kicked the hull three times in rapid succession, and thumped the switch with the heel of his hand. The hatch began to grind open, stopping barely half way up.

McBain shrugged and failed to meet the other men's eyes. "Won't go any further. Took a meteor hit about a year back - buckled the hull. Keep meaning to get it fixed."

The Vulcan raised a highly sceptical eyebrow at his companion, but the other man merely ducked through the half open hatch muttering, "Beggars can't be choosers....."

 

"My god Spock - what IS all this stuff? Kirk gazed in wonder at the somewhat battered selection of 24th century technology that Spock was currently examining.

McBain glanced quickly over his shoulder and scowled at the two men. "Hey - be careful with that. It ain't worth nuthin' to me damaged."

Spock shook the intradermal suture kit in disdain. "The internal circuitry of this piece of equipment is already beyond repair sir. In fact, the majority of your cargo is likewise damaged. Did you bother to check the equipment before loading?"

"With that tin-plated excuse for a security chief breathin' over me shoulder. What do you think?"

McBain turned back to the helm and stabbed at the console in frustration. "Figured, some of it would be worth somethin'," he muttered morosely.

Spock pulled a large metal box from beneath some loose containers and tried the lock. Apart from some dents, the box seemed intact and relinquished its contents in the same general condition.

Kirk looked at the phasers in appreciation. Not too dissimilar from the firearms he knew, but much more powerful and a lot lighter. He took the proffered phaser and measured its weight in his palm.

"That reminds me, where did you get hold of that other phaser?"

Spock retrieved his weapon from the folds of his robe and tossed it to Kirk. He immediately noted the difference in weight between the seemingly identical firearms.

"A replica?"

Spock nodded, a slight twinkle in his eye "In my line of work, one cannot be too careful. However, a real phaser, falling into the wrong hands....."

"Say no more. It certainly looks authentic enough." Kirk tossed the replica back to Spock who plucked it from the air, left handedly without even looking up. Kirk grinned. "You have definitely developed a flair for the dramatic Mr Spock."

"Thank you."

Kirk absentmindedly slipped the real phaser into his pocket as Spock finished his examination of the cargo and stepped back down to the passenger seating area behind the cockpit.

"I had hoped to find at least one salvageable tricorder - unfortunately this equipment seems to be mostly from the engineering section of the Enterprise. The phasers would seem to be the only find of any value."

Kirk nodded and squeezed himself into the navigators' seat next to McBain. " So - where were you headed Julius? Canopus II? Or maybe somewhere in the Neutral Zone?"

"You really think I'm stupid enough to lead you to my contacts? Think again farm boy."

Kirk glared at the stocky pilot and frowned. The man returned his angry regard with a toothy grin and turned back to his console.

Ha! That got him. He's wondering how I knew that. Smug bastard.

Kirk caught his lower lip between his teeth and bit gently. Feigning casualness he looked around the tiny cockpit. "Nice ship. She's seen better days of course, but cutting edge technology never the less. Did you steal her?"

McBain favoured Kirk with a bemused frown. "Cutting' edge? Where the hell have you been? This old bucket is nearly 80 years old."

Oops thought Kirk.

"And no I did not steal her. Matter of fact, she's an heirloom, passed down from me father. Finally thought I'd have enough credits to buy a new ship."

McBain stared glumly out of the front viewport. Kirk sighed. He could have wished for a more reliable mode of transport too, but his original statement about beggars still stood. He only hoped that the security officer back on Veridian III didn't try to follow up on his threat. He could probably catch up with this flea-trap wearing nothing but a thruster suit.

Spock carefully prised open a service panel below the communications board and frowned. The tangle of jury-rigged circuits made little sense to the Vulcan, so he quietly replaced the panel and straightened.

"Mr Caesar, kindly vacate the helm station. I will take over from here."

McBain looked like he was about to argue but backed down under the Vulcan's calm scrutiny. Snorting rudely, he hauled himself out of the battered chair and turned back to Kirk. "Mind if I get some shut-eye? Been awake for nigh on 48 hours."

Kirk nodded distractedly, and watched as the pilot picked his way carefully over the piles of stolen Federation technology, to the ship's sleeping area. Spock had recently discovered that this area consisted of two bunks, an antiquated replicator unit, a non-functional sonic shower and a latrine, which constituted a definite health hazard.

Kirk waited until the connecting door had hissed shut behind the pilot then turned his attention back to Spock. The Vulcan was easing himself carefully into the pilot's seat, but the chair still squealed in protest as his weight settled.

Kirk laughed. "She's a beauty ain't she?"

Spock sighed and let his rigid back muscles relax slowly. The squealing abated and his long fingers began tapping instructions into the helm console.

Kirk glanced over his shoulder, to make sure that their unwilling host was really out of earshot. "Spock, can I ask you a question?"

The Vulcan glanced up at Kirk and seemed to be waging some kind of inner war with himself. Finally, returning his attention to the helm console, he nodded. "Ask."

"Have you considered the fact that my existence in this time line will represent a paradox?"

"I had... considered it, yes."

"And yet you came back for me. Why would you do this?"

Spock caught the faint flicker of amusement behind his friend's steady gaze. He was using Spock's own words, spoken many years ago to his Captain, on the day of his re-birth on the slopes of Mount Seleya. If he remembered the conversation correctly (and why should he not) Spock's next words should be - 'Because the needs of the many, outweigh the needs of the few - or the one' But those words would not be true in this instance. He had returned for his friend for purely selfish reasons. He could feel the tension begin to rise between them, and knew he had hesitated a fraction of a second too long. He turned in his seat and favoured Kirk with a small half smile. "What are friends for?"

Kirk, startled again by Spock's sudden grasp of the concept of humour, laughed in genuine mirth. But he quickly sobered, "Joking aside my friend - we have a problem."

Spock carefully swivelled the creaking chair around to face Kirk. Resting his elbows on his knees, he steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them.

Kirk waited. He knew from long experience, that the Vulcan would speak when he was good and ready. After a moment of quiet contemplation, Spock sighed and fixed his friend with a deep gaze.

"I have, quite literally, come back from the dead. I do not consider myself to be a paradox."

"Spock - what happened on Genesis was quite astonishing but it didn't create a paradox. As soon as the salvage operation is over, I would imagine that Starfleet will exhume my - remains - and take them back to Earth. When they lift up those rocks on Veridian III, they will find my body won't they? Two Kirks - one dead and one alive - Now that's a paradox old friend."

Spock's expression told the Captain that he had considered that. Kirk rubbed his weary eyes and tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. It had been quite a day. Understatement of the Millennium!!! Spock remained motionless, apparently deep in thought, and judging by the look on that normally impassive face, the thoughts did not rest easy with him.

Kirk regretted forcing the issue. Anyone could have seen that logic played only a very small part in Spock's decision to rescue his former commander from the Nexus. Kirk tried to break the contemplative mood.

"Well - the idea of a crazy super-being trying to protect me from an insane super-being doesn't exactly fill me with confidence. Your friend Q didn't seem too clear on how he plans to defeat Lien either. Options, Spock?"

Looking somewhat relieved to be back on less metaphysical planes Spock considered the question before answering, "I do not believe that we can defeat a Q, even a weakened one, in physical combat. The Q themselves do not appear prepared to fight him. We must therefore try to out-think him. In order to weaken him further, it will be necessary to lure him out of the nexus. The question is - how?"

"If we set a trap Spock, we'll need bait."

Spock stiffened. "Surely you are not proposing to offer yourself as bait?"

"Why not? It's me he wants, and I'm not supposed to exist here anyway."

Spock shook his head fractionally and tried another tack, "I see no way of returning to the nexus, but I have calculated, that by plotting a course skirting the more densely populated space lanes, at low warp speed, we can rendezvous with the Starship Fleming at a point in time slightly after I left her bridge. In that event, we can take passage on her to Vulcan."

"But what about me Spock? Exactly how do you plan to explain my presence?"

Spock would not meet his friend's eyes. "Q has said he will protect you Jim. We must have faith."

"Fine - you have faith, what I need is a plan."


	16. Out of Time, Out of Place

Spock, Kirk and McBain took turns to pilot the ailing vessel. Kirk was grateful the ship was so old. Most of the onboard systems dated back to his era, and Spock succinctly explained the more modern ones to him. He had always been a fair pilot, so it irritated him slightly that Spock hovered nearby during his shifts.

For the next seven days, they made stealthy progress through Federation territory, keeping to the shadows like burglars in the night. McBain appeared to be enjoying the company, and was genuinely impressed with Spock's navigational skills.

Kirk had the helm when the malfunction occurred. "Spock?"

Kirk swivelled his chair around to face the cargo area where Spock was trying to rig a bypass circuit.

"Captain?"

"I've got a red light on the warp engines."

Spock leaped, panther-like to his feet, as Kirk swung back to the helm. Over his shoulder, Spock studied the computer screen. "There appears to be a problem within the dilithium chamber. I recommend we drop to sublight."

"Acknowledged." Kirk felt a flicker of surprise at how quickly he had fallen into the military terminology again. The small ship shuddered as it decelerated and a moment later, McBain appeared beside them.

A quick scan of the screens made the man curse softly - this time in Standard. "You boys better have contacts in a dilithium mine, 'cos I ain't got the credits to replace that." He tipped his head in the direction of a screen which was flashing the legend, Warning - dilithium crystal fracture in 10 seconds.

Spock caught Kirk's eye and asked, with his usual straight face, "Do you still maintain relations with your friends on Rura Penthe?"

Kirk was getting used to Spock's blatant use of humour and laughed. "Sure, the guards send me a Christmas card every year."

McBain stared in disbelief between the two men. Who the hell were these guys? Rura Penthe was a dilithium mine, but it was also a Klingon Prison Camp. No-one sent there, ever lived to tell the tale, far less joke about it.

Spock was extracting information at an impressive speed from the ships tiny navigational computer. "The planet Norton IV is less than one days' journey from these co-ordinates at sublight speed. If memory serves, there is a sizeable Federation outpost there. We should be able to - acquire dilithium crystals at their port facilities."

"Forget it," growled McBain, "The Feds also have a large security division on Norton. No way you'll get off that planet with more than a heavy cold."

Spock cleared his throat delicately "Federation security measures present little problem to us Mr Caesar."

"McBain."

"I beg your pardon?"

"My name is Alfred Constantine McBain." He looked hopefully at the two men but they both remained silent. He sighed and shook his head "Suit Yourselves."

 

It was a rocky ride. McBain elected to pilot the unstable little ship to Norton, claiming to have intimate knowledge of her moods. Spock was reminded of another who endowed inanimate objects, namely his ship's engines, with personalities. By the time they rolled into the hanger on Norton IV, the stocky pilot was sweating rivers.

They were directed to a parking slot between a shiny Starfleet Runabout and an ugly brown Ferengi Scout ship. As McBain powered down the engines, Spock popped the hatch, taking care to duck when it creaked to its customary, half-open position.

Over his shoulder, the Vulcan addressed Kirk, "This will not take long. Be prepared to start the engines at a moments notice."

Then he was gone into the shadows. McBain climbed painfully out of his chair and stretched his arms high over his head exposing a vast expanse of wobbling stomach. Kirk winced. Please God don't ever let me get like that, he silently prayed.

McBain cracked his knuckles one after another then headed for the sleeping quarters, mumbling something about hitting the sack.

Kirk felt the need to stretch his legs so ducked out of the hatch and scanned the vast hanger deck. On Norton IV, it was the early hours of the morning so the hanger was deserted. Kirk glanced at the Ferengi ship with distaste. It was as ugly as sin. Obviously this race of beings did not approve of wasting credits on making their ships look nice.

Kirk circumnavigated his borrowed ship, saw the Starfleet Runabout and gasped. In his century, shuttlecraft had been small, boxy and functional, but this ship was beautiful. Sleek and shiny, like a thoroughbred racehorse, its name printed in flowing red calligraphy on its smooth hull. He could see that it was fully warp capable, with forward phasers and torpedo ports. More than able to look after itself. It was also a great deal bigger than any shuttlecraft he had ever seen. It probably could hold about 40 people in a push although he guessed that its normal compliment would be about 6. He laid a hand, admiringly on the ship's side, and smiled fondly at the name.

His reverie was interrupted by the sound of men's voices approaching from the other side of the hanger. Realising that he could not get back to the hatch without being seen, Kirk dropped to the floor and rolled under the raised belly of his ship. He came to an abrupt halt when his jacket caught on a piece of jagged metal, and ripped loudly.

He froze and held in his breath just as two sets of legs came into view. A thickly accented voice spoke in hushed tones, "What wis that?"

The second voice was also heavily accented, but softer and more melodic, "What was what Monty?"

"Did ye not hear somethin' Pat?"

"Are you tryin' to put the fear o' god in me man? There's no-one here at this time o' the mornin' but mad fools like you that won't accept an Irishman's hospitality."

"Yer a fine lad Pat, but I've been spongin' of ye long enough. Time I wis on ma way."

Kirk tried to let his breath out slowly, but was sure that the racket his heart was making against his ribcage would surely alert the two men to his presence. He stared at the legs, now directly in front of his ship, and frowned.

Must have had a knock on the head. That sounds like Scotty's voice! But it can't be.

Suddenly the familiar voice began to chuckle. "Will ye take a look at that old crate."

The legs were now facing Kirk's ship. The voice that sounded like Kirk's former Chief Engineer, began talking animatedly, "That was a very basic shuttle design in ma time, but she's been patched up using bits from anythin' they could find. I bet the inside is even worse. Look - there, an old style sub-space radio transmitter, and see how bent it is? The poor wee bairn."

Kirk found himself grinning broadly, despite the gravity of the situation. Impossible though it was - his former Chief Engineer had made it into the 24th Century too. The second man's voice sounded sympathetic, "She's callin' herself the Icarus. Like her name-sake, tis a wonder she can even fly."

"Aye that it is. How about my ship though Pat? This is the Nova Scotia- what do you think?"

The legs turned to face the Starfleet Runabout. "My god but she's a beauty. Even better than the shuttlecraft Captain Picard gave you."

"That wis only an extended loan. But I have ta admit, he wis fair surprised when I brought her back to him. Aye, he's a fine man, Captain Picard."

Kirk's eyes widened. Picard again? And he had given Scotty a shuttle? How did Scotty know Picard? And what the hell was his engineer doing in this century?

The second man was talking again, "Well if I can't hold ye here any longer, tis time to say farewell. Where are you bound next?"

Scott's voice sounded hesitant, "Ta be honest lad - I don't know. Starfleet has no new assignments for me. A couple o' weeks ago, I visited an old friend o' mine. He's nae got long to live and it got me thinkin' about my own mortality."

"Ah now sure'n a man like you will live forever?"

"Forever is a wee might excessive lad. But there's still so much out there I havna seen yet. It's all there, just waitin' for Montgomery Scott."

Kirk heard the sound of a hand patting a shoulder. "There's Irish blood in you somewhere Monty - you are a big old romantic fool at heart."

Scotty chuckled "I'll take that as a compliment Pat. Take care o' yersel' now."

Kirk watched as one pair of legs strode away across the hanger and the other remained. Scotty cursed under his breath, "Damn it all lassie - what I wouldna give for a few hours alone with ye."

Kirk wondered when the woman had sneaked up on them, then realised with wry humour, that Scotty was talking to McBain's ship. A few moments later, his old friend had boarded the Nova Scotia, and taxied her out of the hanger.

Kirk rolled out from under the Icarus, as he now knew the ship to be called, and straightened his back, wincing in pain. Then Spock appeared from the shadows behind the Ferengi Scout ship, carrying a small black box. He had quite obviously witnessed the Scotsman's departure, and quite a bit of his conversation, judging by the look on his face.

Kirk pulled himself through the hatch and waited until the Vulcan had closed the door before asking "He has to be close to 150 years old. Even in this century - that can't be possible."

Spock bent and prised open the floor panel that allowed access to the engines. "Actually, he is approximately 70 Standard years old. Two years ago, Captain Picard rescued him from a transporter locked into a diagnostic loop. He had been in the pattern buffers for 75 years."

Kirk waited until Spock had lowered himself into the crawl space, then handed him a toolbox. "McCoy would have had a field-day with that. He always hated transporters."

"It was not a transporter accident that trapped the Engineer... (I require a magnetic clamp, thank you) ...he initiated the procedure himself to survive after his ship crashed into a Dyson sphere. (and the 0.6 mil laser torch... thank you) He did not, at the time imagine that rescue would take 75 years."

Kirk carefully took the transparent aluminium casing from the dilithium chamber from Spock and placed it on the deck. "So how did he come by that Federation Ship? "

Spock's concentration was fully taken up for a moment as he freed the fractured crystal from its mountings. Strange, how the crystals were so plain and uninspiring to look at despite the immense power they were capable of focusing. "Starfleet gave him the ship six months ago. He works for the Federation as an Independent Engineering Consultant. I believe he is quite good at his job."

Spock gently placed the ugly grey chunk of rock into the mountings and accepted the casing from Kirk.

"You say he's only been in this century for 2 years, and already he's caught up on all the technology?" Kirks voice was tinged with awe.

The Vulcan finished replacing the dilithium casing, and reached for Kirk's hand. Kirk pulled him from the crawlspace and together they replaced the floor panel. As they worked, Spock scrutinised Kirk from beneath hooded eyes. It was obvious to Spock, that Kirk was feeling somewhat antiquated. He wished he could reassure his friend, but unfortunately, time was rapidly running out.

"I estimate another 8.7 minutes, until the port authorities discover my recent activities."

"Exactly 8.7 minutes?"

"That is how long the average human being remains unconscious after a Vulcan nerve pinch."

Kirk threw himself into the navigators seat and smiled broadly. "I see. Well - we'd better get the hell out of here Mr Spock."

Taking his seat next to Kirk, Spock nodded. "Unquestionably."


	17. Friends in High Places

  


In order to evade any pursuit attempts made by the authorities of Norton IV, Spock's course was fiendishly complicated, and much more time-consuming than the Vulcan would have liked. Kirk and McBain passed the time by indulging in a friendly game of Fizzbin.

Whilst an instructor at the Academy, Kirk had made up rules for the fictional card game and introduced it to his cadets. He had been shocked to discover that, 80 years later, the game had become almost as popular as poker in some areas of space. He was losing his eighth consecutive hand, when he heard the Vulcan sigh quietly. Spock had been at the helm for the past 14 hours, re-calculating his original ETA and flight plan.

Kirk threw his useless hand, face down onto the upturned cable spool they were using as a table and yawned. "I give up. The rules seemed to have evolved slightly since - I last played."

McBain snorted in disgust and scooped up Kirks cards. "Wish we were playin' for money - I would have wiped you out by now."

The pilot began shuffling the deck expertly and grinned at Kirk. The Captain grinned back in genuine amusement, realising that he was actually beginning to like the short, plump pilot. If you ignored the fact that he was a criminal, McBain was great company. His never-ending stories about his adventures over the past 60 years were always entertaining, if a trifle tall.

Then again, if Kirk had related any of his own adventures, no doubt the pilot would consider them exaggerations at best. McBain's stories involved many altercations with Romulans. He was not old enough to remember a time when Klingons were the Federation's mortal enemies but like most denizens of this century - he considered Romulans to be the scourge of the Earth.

Kirk still found it difficult to think of Klingons as allies. Spock had told him that Picard even had a Klingon Security Officer on his ship. It was an unsettling concept. And if Spock had his way, perhaps in another 80 years time, the Romulan Empire would also by Allies. Kirk hoped that he had learned enough from the Gorkon Initiative to embrace the idea, but he was not ready to examine his feelings about that too closely. At least not yet.

McBain glanced over his shoulder towards the food replicator and back at Kirk, "I'm just about hungry enough to take my life in my hands. How about you?"

Kirk shook his head firmly. The machine had a weird idea about what beef was supposed to look like. He left McBain to his culinary experiments and slipped into the navigators seat. Spock sat, elbows resting on the helm, deep in thought.

Kirk cocked his head in enquiry "Problem?"

Spock nodded slowly, "I do not believe that we can use this vessel to rendezvous with the Fleming."

"Too slow?"

"That is one reason. The course changes which I have been forced to make in order to evade the authorities have put us seriously behind schedule. In order to catch up with the Fleming now, we would have to push this vessel beyond breaking point. However another though had occurred. The Fleming is on route from Earth to Vulcan, one of the most densely populated space lanes in this quadrant, and my plan relied heavily on remaining undetected...."

Kirk finished the sentence. "...and McBain's ship is wanted for piracy all over this quadrant. The moment his ship's registry is recognised, Federation Security will be on us like a rash."

Kirk glanced over his shoulder at the stocky pilot, currently engaged in kicking the replicator unit. "How long until our rendezvous?"

"7.3 days."

"Damn - so close."

"Kaplah!!!" McBain roared the Klingon word, which meant 'success'. Kirk smiled as he watched the pilot extract a steaming bowl form the replicator slot.

Keeping his voice low, he turned back to Spock. "So - what's the plan?"

Spock hesitated a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. "I have an - acquaintance on the border planet Lenarii. It is approximately 5 hours from here. He may be disposed to supply us with a faster vessel."

Kirk's eyebrows lifted, "Lenarii. Is it still a haven for pirates and mercenaries like it was in my day?"

"Perhaps even more so," said Spock enigmatically.

Kirk glanced back to McBain again, noting how the pilot seemed to be juggling the steaming hot bowl from one hand to the other and muttering under his breath, Oh... ah... oh... ah. "And you have a friend there?" he asked dubiously.

Spock turned to watch the pilot advancing towards the table and stated simply, "He owes me a favour."

McBain had seated himself at the table and speared a squarish, grey chunk of meat on his fork. Steam still billowed from the morsel, but unthinkingly, the pilot popped it into his mouth. A second ticked by, and then the morsel shot out again, followed by a string of expletives. McBain shot to his feet covering his scalded mouth with both hands and causing the table to topple. The stew hit the deck with a splat.

Spock shook his head and turned back to his console. "Lenarii also boasts a reasonably adequate restaurant."

Kirk laughed loudly, "Well what are we waiting for?"

  


Five point one hours later, the trio threw back the hoods of their travelling cloaks, and entered Lenarii's only public bar. It was a huge, crowded, dark and smoky room. Kirk tried to stifle a cough, not wanting to draw attention to his little band.

Kirk watched as Spock moved with remarkable calm through the thronging clientele, and marvelled again at how much his friend had changed. There had been a time, when Kirk had struggled to camouflage his friend's alieness whilst on undercover missions, but now, the tall Vulcan had totally mastered the art of subterfuge - he actually looked like he belonged amongst the dregs of the universe. More so than Kirk did. McBain, of course, really did belong here. They had no sooner entered the establishment, than the pilot had made for the bar, and now Kirk joined him there.

Surreptitiously, he watched Spock from the corner of his eye, as the Vulcan seated himself in a secluded alcove beside a small reptilian creature.

McBain handed the Captain a glass of green liquid, which turned out to be Aldebaran whisky, and watched as Kirk threw back the potent alcohol, smacking his lips in appreciation. McBain seemed impressed. Kirk squirmed in his seat, fighting the urge to scratch himself. He was sure that the rough, tatty clothing supplied by the pilot to make them blend in, was infested with fleas.

He turned to study Spock again. The Vulcan was engaged in earnest conversation with the reptilian, who, looked to Kirk, like a gecko. Was this Spock's friend, Kirk wondered? The gecko suddenly rose from the table and disappeared through a door at the back of the room. Spock's eyes scanned the bar until the rested on Kirk. He nodded once.

That was the signal Kirk had been waiting for. He leaned closer to McBain, "Stay here. Try not to get too drunk and we'll meet you back at the ship in one hour."

McBain snorted and lifted his third glass of whiskey aloft, the contents turning an electric blue colour by the neon sign behind the bar which proclaimed - DRINX - FOOD - SEX.

Kirk slid down from the stool, and carefully picked his way across the bar, trying not to jostle anyone. The last thing he needed right now was to become entangled in a bar-room brawl. He arrived at Spock's table at the same time as the gecko, who looked him up and down suspiciously.

Spock stood up and regarded the lizard-man coolly. "He is with me."

"Kalan won't like it - he's a hew-mon," hissed the gecko.

"I will deal with Kalan."

Spock's icy tone cut through the alien's resistance and he shrugged. "Thhhis way."

On the other side of the door, was a small room, used as a private dinning area. There was one large table at its centre, and one man seated at that table. Kirk felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The man, dressed similarly to Spock and Kirk, was quite obviously a Romulan.

As he advanced on the two men, Kirk glance sideways at his friend, but the Vulcan remained perfectly calm. The Romulan threw out a hand and Spock grasped his elbow tightly.

The Romulan equivalent of a handshake. "Major Takal. It is an unexpected pleasure to see you," said the Romulan, smiling broadly.

Kirk watched in astonishment as Spock returned the man's warm smile. "Kalan, still alive my old friend?"

The Romulan laughed and dropped Spock's arm, then he noticed Kirk for the first time. His eyebrow rose questioningly. Spock merely shrugged. "Humans make remarkably good informants - if the price is right." His voice dripped scorn.

Kirk was beginning to get the idea. He grinned broadly at the Romulan and extended his hand as he had seen Kalan do, "Don't worry - I'm the soul of discretion." The Romulan ignored his outstretched hand.

Spock pulled out a chair and sat. "My friend, I need your assistance. My current mission calls for a faster mode of transport than is presently at my disposal."

Kalan moved to a small table set back against the wall and lifted a decanter of electric blue liquid. Noticeably, he poured only two glasses, and Kirk scowled in a suitable offended manner, as he handed one to Spock.

"I can arrange that," he stated confidently. Spock raised his glass, and it chinked loudly against the Romulans. "What else do you need?"

Spock glanced quickly at Kirk, and then threw back the Romulan ale in one gulp. "We took passage here on an independent scout ship. The vessel is somewhat the worse for wear and I made a promise to have it repaired, but time is short... as are my funds."

"I will see to it Major. A Romulan's word is his honour, even when given to a human. Your ship will be ready within the hour." Kalan rose and left, to make arrangements.

As the door closed behind him, Kirk turned a quizzical glance to his friend. "Your friend is a Romulan?"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "For many years now, I have posed as Major Takal of the Tal Shiar."

"The Romulan secret police?"

"Indeed. Kalan is one of several operatives currently assigned to frontier worlds on this side of the neutral zone. Their purpose is to aid Romulan agents cross over the border and offer them assistance whilst here."

Kirk shot to his feet, years of Starfleet training bubbling to the surface, "How many...?"

"Jim, please calm yourself. It has been necessary for me to utilise this network of spies to facilitate my own sojourns into the Empire. Rest assured that the Federation employs similar methods."

Kirk sunk back into his chair. "Of course they do. I'm sorry Spock - all of this just seems - so - civilised. People popping back and forth across the zone, gentlemen spies - well it's a far cry from my day."

"I assure you - it is not as simple as you think."

Kirk scowled at his old friend. He already felt useless enough in this century, without Spock making him feel worse. "And what was all that about McBain's ship?"

"I was uncomfortable about using his ship's resources without paying for our passage."

"Spock, we gave him a brand new dilithium crystal. That must be worth...."

"Not as much as you may think. Dilithium re-crystallisation is quite commonplace nowadays. The value of dilithium has plummeted. I feel somewhat responsible for that."

Kirk remembered that during their brief sojourn to 20th Century San Francisco to find a pair of humped-backed whales, Spock had developed the wild theory, into a working fact. He sighed wearily "I need a drink."

Spock pulled back a heavy curtain, which had been concealing another door at the opposite end of the room. "I thought you wanted to visit the restaurant?"

Kirk sighed again and shaking his head, crossed the room, muttering, "Dammed cloak and dagger, Romulan spies, time travel... I am retired you know?"

Spock only raised an eyebrow.

  


McBain staggered across the hanger to where his ship was berthed. One hour - they had said. OOPS. It had been a while since McBain had drunk Aldeberan whiskey and had forgotten how good it tasted. So good, in fact, that he had quite forgotten how hungry he was. Potent alcohol on an empty stomach had produced the expected results, and now, four and a half hours late, the pilot was making his way home.

Ah there she is right where I left her.

McBain thumped the hatch release and watched as the heavy door rose up... and up... and up. He closed his eyes and opened them again. No doubt about it - the hatch was open. Right open. McBain fumbled inside his cloak and withdrew a small knife. In his present condition, the knife posed no real threat to anyone, but it made McBain feel better.

He stumbled through the hatch and was shocked to see a man sitting in his chair. The stranger was surrounded by a profusion of circuit boards and conduits, all of which seemed to have come from McBain's own helm console.

The man smiled cheerfully. "Won't be long now, sir. Two hours tops."

McBain squinted at the stranger. "Hmmmm?"

"Kalan says to tell you that Major Takal, always pays his debts - consider this repair job payment for your services."

"Major who?"

"Takal. The Romulan you shipped in with? He and his human associate left hours ago."

McBain felt his legs go from underneath him. He'd been flying around the quadrant with a Goddamned Romulan? He slid onto the deck with a soft thump. He looked up at the technician blankly and said, "I could have sworn he was from Shikahr."

  


The two-person scout ship was cramped in comparison to the Icarus, but everything worked perfectly. Seven days after they left Lenarii, Spock reached the co-ordinates at which he had calculated their rendezvous with the Fleming.

On board the Starship, the communications officer turned startled eyes to the centre seat. "Captain, we're receiving a communication from a small scout ship - approaching from the stern sir."

"What do they want?"

The communications officer turned fully in her chair, her face a mask of shock. "Sir - the caller identifies himself as - Ambassador Spock. He's requesting permission to come on board."

Captain Rodgers of the Starship Alexander Fleming, glanced at the chronometer on his wrist. 48 minutes since the Ambassador had vanished from the briefing room. He had understood very little of the conversation between Spock and the Q, (quantum theorem regarding time travel gave him acid indigestion) but somehow he had thought it would take... longer?

"Patch me through Lieutenant - Ambassador, you work fast. How many to beam aboard?"

"Two. My mission was a success."

But even as Spock felt the beam take him, he wondered if that statement was a bit premature.


	18. Another Homecoming

  


Another round of talks with the Vulcan High council had come and gone with no resolution. The Rihannsu defectors would be given safe haven, but there would be no more mention of re-unification. Seleya had argued well. Although she was no match for her husband in the arena of diplomacy, she was never the less a skilled negotiator, which had not, in this case, helped.

She admitted now to feeling a certain amount of animosity towards Spock for leaving Vulcan at the very moment he was needed by both their worlds, but she also understood honour. When a friend of long standing died, one was duty bound to pay tribute. It was a matter of mnhei'sahe. And she too had known this friend of Spock's from years past. The healer with eyes as blue as the sky over ch'Rihan and a temper that burned like the sun. He had even had a Rihannsu name - Ma'khoi. That one was fire and air. A noble combination of elements and deserving of Spock's loyalty.

She could not apportion him any blame. Some things went beyond logic, though her husband would never admit that. She may not hold a grudge against Spock, but her son was a different matter. The truth of his dual heritage did not sit well with him.

The relationship between father and son had been tenuous before, but now... She sighed in frustration. That particular problem would take all her skills as arbitrator to overcome. She allowed herself a derisive snort - her so-called skills had been of little use today.

Seleya became aware of a multitude of eyes following her progress as she left the Great Hall. Her fellow Rihannsu were still being held by the Vulcan Security Forces, but she and her son were allowed to walk freely. News of their arrival had travelled fast. The watchers were not being rude - merely curious - one emotion the Vulcans exhibited with alacrity.

Apparently, it was believed that the wife and son of Ambassador Spock were not a threat to security. She had been surprised by that, and by the fact that Spock had so openly declared their marital status before the High Council. Somehow, she had assumed he would not admit to having taken a Romulan wife. Even after all these years, he still possessed the ability to surprise her.

As she reached the small fountain in the courtyard, Seleya saw that her son had come to meet her. He sat beneath the relative shade of a gnarled old tree, watching the passing Vulcans with barely concealed hostility. She sighed. Why had she ever believed he would stay in the house as instructed? One thing her son had in common with his Vulcan siblings, was his insatiable curiosity. And besides that, she knew how uncomfortable he felt in his father's house.

Seeing his mother's approach, he stood and came to meet her his welcoming smile fading slightly at her despondent expression. "I see from your face things didn't go too well."

"Am I grown so predictable in my old age that my son can read me like a book?"

Ashan took her arm and they turned towards the outskirts of town where his father's townhouse was located. "Of course you have, mother. How else would I be able to wrap you round my trigger finger?"

She laughed and patted him affectionately on the hand. "You should not underestimate me Ashan, for one day I may surprise you."

Ashan's handsome face clouded, and he dropped his hand from the crook of her arm. His very silence spoke volumes. She had already surprised him, and in a way neither of them could have imagined. They had reached an area of parkland, an oasis from which the town of Shikahr had sprung. Gently she guided him to a recessed bench.

Once seated, she laid her hand on his arm. "Speak."

The boy rested his arms on his knees, clasping his fingers together and steepling the index fingers in a heart-wrenchingly familiar gesture. "Mother, what's to become of us? Surely it can't be your intention to stay on this planet? Would you make a home here amongst aliens?"

"The Vulcan's are from exactly the same genetic stock as us, my son."

"I was referring to the high numbers of Terrans and other alien races that live here."

He said the word Terran as if it tasted bad. Seleya gently placed her palm on his cheek and turned his face towards him. He had given her the perfect opening.

"Ashan - there is something you should know. Your father is half human."

She watched carefully as that piece of information slowly sunk in. Her son seemed not to react at first due to the shock, but slowly he began to shake his head, forcing her use both hands to keep his face turned to her.

"He was raised here on this planet and chose to accept the Vulcan way of life. It was not easy for him. Young children, no matter what their race, can be very cruel, and yet he prevailed. He is a very good Vulcan, Ashan, but his strength of character, his compassion and his questing spirit are products of his Terran ancestry."

Ashan was staring at his mother as if she had just told him his father was the Emperor himself. She was unsure how much of the conversation he had heard until he closed his eyes and let his breath out in one long whistle. He fixed his mother with a narrow eyed glare.

"I've noticed nothing much in the way of compassion from him. Still, I'm sure he made _his_ father very proud."

Ashan did not know what he expected from his mother, but her short, not-quite-amused laugh was not it. "Indeed he did not, but that is a story for another day."

She got to her feet and reached out a slim hand to the boy. Hesitating only a second, he took it and stood with her. "We have been terribly unfair to you Ashan. The mess we are in is none of your doing, and I can understand why you should feel as you do about your father, but I am as guilty as he - I could have told you all this when you were a child. Neither of us ever imagined that events would take the course they have. We had hoped that by the time you found out, Vulcan and Rihannsu would be re-united. I am sorry my son. I have caused you great pain."

Ashan felt his anger dissipate. She could always do that - make him feel like an ungrateful, unworthy son. Perhaps he had, in a way, always underestimated her. But he could not remain angry with her. His father, now that was a different matter. He could remain angry with him for the rest of eternity. He wanted desperately to get away from here, to think, but his mind was bursting with questions, his curiosity getting the better of him yet again.

As they walked slowly to his father's house, Ashan began his tentative interrogation. Seleya felt a faint stirring of hope, for surely, if her son really did hate his father, he would have no interest in his life.

  


* * *

The Starship Alexander Fleming, docked at Vulcan Space Central at 0300 hours. Captain Rodgers and his first officer met their two guests in the transporter room. Rodgers looked uneasy. "Ambassador - you can't really expect me not to report this can you?"

Spock held out a data pad. "I have recorded a detailed report of recent events, for the eyes of Admiral Joshua Landsbury. You are welcome to review the data first, but I would consider it a personal favour if, beyond passing this information to the Admiral, you would make no further reports or log entries."

Rodgers took the pad hesitantly. "Well, I suppose you do have some extraordinary powers as a Federation Ambassador. Are you evoking those now?"

Spock glanced at Kirk. "I have... resigned. My request is not a formal one. You must do as you see fit."

Rodgers nodded and looked at the data pad as though it were made of antimatter. He quickly passed it to his first officer and extended a hand to Kirk, who shook it vigorously. "It was a pleasure to meet you sir. Reading about your adventures when I was a boy, is what made me decide on a career in Starfleet. I'm glad you made it into this century - even if I cant tell anyone I met you."

Kirk grinned.

Spock raised his hand in the Vulcan salute. "Live long and prosper, Captain Rodgers. Your help has been invaluable."

"Peace and long life Amb....Mr Spock. I was honoured to help."

With that, the two men stepped onto the Fleming's small transporter platform and shimmered out of existence. They were beamed down in front of Spock's house in Shikahr.

Kirk noted that the single story building had not changed at all since his last visit there, well over 80 years ago. He hesitated at the gate and Spock raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

"Jim?"

Kirk smiled sheepishly at his old friend. "Just composing myself Spock. I'd like to make a good impression on your ...wife and ...son."

The words seemed to fall hesitantly from his lips, as if he had difficulty believing them. Spock understood quite clearly, he had often felt the same way these last 40 years, at least where his son was concerned. Being separated from his wife by several thousand parsecs, the Romulan Neutral Zone and Federation policy had not diminished their mental bond - she was always with him, at least in spirit - but his son was an entirely different matter.

It occurred to Spock that he should perhaps have explained to Kirk, the relationship, or lack of one, between Ashan and himself. It was still difficult for him to discuss matters of a personal nature even with his oldest friend. No matter - Kirk would see it for himself soon enough.

Right now he contented himself with saying, "They will be asleep Jim. Dawn is still 3 hours away."

Kirk nodded and pushed open the gate. "I guess I'm a bit nervous. The last time we met it wasn't exactly under the best of circumstances remember? I just hope she doesn't hold a grudge."

They walked quietly up to the house, and Spock nodded. "Over the years, she has demonstrated remarkable accuracy with projectile weapons, including many breakable household objects. Her speciality is the teacup."

By now, Kirk was wide-eyed and firmly clutching his hand over his mouth, in a mixture of disbelief and hysterics. The vision of Spock involved in a domestic brawl involving flying crockery was one he would not forget in a hurry.

Spock entered his code into the door panel, and stepped back to allow his friend to enter the darkened hall. Kirk heard the ticking of Amanda's antique grandfather clock and felt a moment of sadness. Spock had told him that Amanda had died 60 years ago. Kirk was beginning to understand what being removed from the time-line really meant.

Many of his friends and acquaintances were now dead. Antonia was dead. Amanda, Carol Markus and McCoy - all dead. _And so should I be,_ thought Kirk grimly as he laid a hand on the clock. Spock observed him quietly but said nothing.

He opened the door to the guest bedroom and indicated that Kirk should go in. "I believe you have a saying on Earth - things will look better in the morning."

Kirk stepped into the bedroom and turned to face his old friend. "We have another saying - tomorrow never comes."

"Perhaps the pursuit of such an unreachable goal, is what makes life worth living?"

"Philosophy, Spock? I didn't know you had it in you."

"Then you were not paying attention. Goodnight Jim."

"Goodnight Spock." Kirk closed the door quietly and undressed in the semi-darkness. The sheets were blissfully cool against his skin, but he knew that sleep would elude him. Too many questions regarding his existence still plagued him.

Spock hesitated at the open door to his bedchamber. Despite the fact that he had been married for 40 standard years, his wife had never slept in his bed. Seeing her here now, chest rising and falling gently in sleep, her hair splayed on his pillow turned silver by the light of T'Kut, Spock felt a touch of uneasiness. Illogical. She was his wife, and as such had every right to sleep in his bed, but Spock could not help but wonder what his father would have said, had he found the woman lying thus, is his son's bed. In his fathers house. Again - illogical. Whatever Sarek might or might not have thought, the Vulcan would have kept to himself.

Spock quietly let the door close behind him, and waited a few moments until his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He crossed to the window and let his eyes roam over the silver-lit garden below.

"Spock?"

He turned slowly at the sound of her voice. She had propped her head onto one hand and was regarding him steadily. "Forgive me - I did not mean to wake you."

Spock sat on the edge of the bed and held out his hand, two fingers extended in the customary greeting gesture between married couples. She touched his fingers with her own and he felt the familiar and comforting brush of her mind against his. "Something troubles you, Spock?"

Spock allowed the smile to reach his eyes, if not his lips. How could a woman as psi-blind as she, still manage to read his mind with such ease? Sighing, he began to remove his clothing then slipped beneath the covers. She lay patiently waiting, assured that he would talk when he was ready.

He reached for the contact points on her face as he spoke "There is a great deal to tell. A meld will be much quicker."

She smiled in the near darkness and placed her palm on his cheek. "It has been a long time, Spock. I think I have forgotten how."

It was a long standing joke between them and Spock, placing his other hand on her cheek, said softly. "It will come back to you."


	19. Like Father, Like son

  


Kirk awoke to the smell of freshly ground coffee percolating. The aroma lead him into the kitchen where Spock sat at the table whilst Seleya prepared breakfast. Kirk hesitated in the doorway for a moment, unwilling to disturb the domestic scene. The Romulan woman had changed only a little since their first meeting. Her hair may have become streaked with silver and her face may have grown sharper and etched with a few more lines, but she was still breathtakingly beautiful.

Over a century had passed since the Enterprise had invaded Romulan space to steal the cloaking technology from the Commander. At the time, Starfleet had not been aware of any female Commanders in the Romulan fleet and their plan had been simply to convince their enemy that Kirk had acted on his own in taking their ship into the Empire. Spock was charged with convincing the Romulans that Kirk was no longer fit to command and then gaining their trust. The moment they had seen the way Seleya looked at Spock, both men had known that the plan must change.

As they had dragged the Captain to the detention room, Kirk had fixed his First Officer with a piercing look. Spock had barely responded. At first, he had been uncomfortable with his new role as an object of desire. But his discomfort rapidly became replaced with another emotion. Almost everything that followed had been entirely ad-libbed, and had very nearly failed due to Spock's distraction. Kirk had been forced to beam aboard the Romulan vessel without the correct co-ordinates.

In the end, the plan had succeeded despite Spock's deepening involvement with Seleya. Kirk had only realised the depths of that involvement when later, she had deliberately thrown herself into the transporter beam as Spock was rescued from the Romulan Ship. He could only guess how close his First Officer had come to betraying him that day.

Now Kirk stood in the doorway and tried to imagine how their second meeting must have gone. Freed from his oath to Starfleet and thinking Kirk dead, Spock would no longer have been able to deny his true feelings for the Romulan woman. Boy, would he have liked to have been a fly on the wall that day.

Then she looked up, and saw Kirk standing at the doorway. She hastily disentangled herself from her husband and fixed Kirk with her diamond sharp gaze. Caught eavesdropping, Kirk blushed, then strolled into the kitchen and smiled at the couple in his most disarming manner.

He never saw the fist coming. As he landed hard on his derriere, his hand flew to his bruised jaw and his eyes to Spock's face. As usual, the Vulcan displayed no emotion. He merely got up from his chair and offered Kirk a hand up. Kirk reached for the hand and as he was pulled to a standing position, Spock murmured into his ear, "It would appear that she does hold a grudge, Captain."

Kirk warily eyed his assailant, but all traces of anger and violence seemed to have left her. She poured a mug of coffee from the jug and held it out to him. "That much I owed you, Kirk. Consider your debt to me paid."

He gingerly took the mug and allowed a small smile to play with the corners of his mouth. "Why do I get the impression you're letting me off lightly? That's some right hook, ma'am."

Seleya turned back to the stove and continued to prepare breakfast. The two men seated themselves at the table and Kirk leaned forward. "I thought you were joking last night."

"Vulcans never joke."

"I believe you!" Kirk relaxed back into the chair, and watched as Seleya placed a bowl of what looked like red porridge in front of him. She waited until he had taken a mouthful before nodding and serving up breakfast for Spock and herself.

"Hmmmm... Good," mumbled Kirk, although even if the porridge had tasted quite foul, he doubted he would have had the guts to complain.

"It is a Rihannsu recipe. The colour comes from the blood berries, which are native to both Rihannsu and Vulcan. Another thing our people share. So, now that the pleasantries have been exchanged...."

Kirk rubbed absently at his jaw.

"...I assume you two have a plan."

"Plan?" asked Kirk looking at Spock. The Vulcan dabbed delicately at his mouth with a napkin.

"We must determine whether or not Q has been successful in protecting Captain Picard, and why he has not yet come back for you. Furthermore, there is the problem of Lien. It is only a matter of time before he finds you."

"Would Q have taken Picard into the nexus?"

"Unlikely - he believed that Lien was more powerful whilst inside the nexus. Our first priority should be attempting to locate Picard."

"So where do we start?"

"After the destruction of the Enterprise-D, the surviving crew were given extended shore leave. I know that Picard stayed on Earth. I had the opportunity to mind meld with him a few years ago, and I know of his deep family ties to his brother. Perhaps he would have gone to see him."

"Any idea where his family live?"

"La Barre, France. There is a vineyard belonging to his brother. It should not be hard to locate through civilian channels."

"Ok, that's a start, but what if he isn't there?"

"I have a contact at Starfleet Headquarters. He may have more accurate information on Picard's last known whereabouts."

  


* * *

  


"I'm sorry Ambassador Spock, I wish I had better news. As I told you at McCoy's memorial service, Picard contacted me a week ago to get information on your whereabouts. When I received your report from Captain Rodgers, I did some checking. He made plans to travel to Vulcan, but he never arrived there."

"Thank you Joshua. If you manage to contact him, perhaps you could let me know. It is a matter of utmost importance."

"Likewise, Spock. Landsbury out."

Spock clicked off the viewer and turned to face Kirk. "Vanished without trace. The Q involvement is confirmed but which Q?"

Kirk began to pace. "Lien can't have him. If Q had failed, surely he would have come back for us right away?"

"He assumed we would be returned to this reality from the nexus at the same point in time as we entered it. He is probably searching for us some 80 years in the past."

"God, temporal mechanics give me a headache." Kirk stopped pacing and turned to face Spock. "Worst case scenario - Lien has Picard and our friendly Q is looking for us in the wrong time period. Do we just sit tight and wait for one of them to show up?"

"I believe that Lien is biding his time, trying to restore his strength within the nexus. There is no way of knowing how long that will take."

Kirk sat down in a low chair and sighed. "I don't like this Spock - it's not my style to sit around helplessly and wait to be rescued. I almost wish this Lien would show up so that I can punch him right in his arrogant...."

"Captain, I at least have no choice. I was informed this morning that the Vulcan High Council will convene again tomorrow, and that I am to be called to testify regarding my actions. I cannot leave Vulcan until the matter is resolved. Perhaps you should find a shuttle and depart as soon as possible. If you tell no-one of your destination, it is possible that you can evade capture by keeping on the move."

Kirk shook his head, "I'm afraid we both know that's not an option. I don't have the skills to exist alone in this time period. I wouldn't know one end of an izolunar chip from the other."

"Isoliniar chip."

"Exactly."

Spock nodded sympathetically, "Then we have no option. We wait."

  


* * *

  


Kirk found Ashan sitting by the fountain in Spock's garden. Although the boy had not been present at breakfast and this was the first time Kirk had seen Spock's son, the resemblance was more than just striking. If he narrowed his eyes slightly, and imagined the boy in Starfleet Science blue - it could have been Spock the first time Kirk met him. His mind wandered back to that fateful day.

Officially, he had been given the Enterprise two weeks before his thirty first birthday, but he was still in the Base Hospital recovering from severe injuries sustained at the battle of Ghioghe. It was nearly a month later, that he had sneaked aboard for the first time, early in the ships morning cycle for an unofficial look around.

The Enterprise was due to leave space dock within the next two days, and Kirk had been disappointed that his friend Gary would not be ready to join them as first officer. His injuries at Ghioghe had been even more severe than Kirks. But the Admiralty had insisted that the Vulcan named Spock, would make an excellent First. He had served as Second Officer under Captain Pike for 13 years and was an outstanding Officer.

Kirk had no doubt that was true, but still, he was uncomfortable at having an unemotional Vulcan in such an important position. It was a Captain's prerogative to choose his own command crew, but if those people were unavailable, Starfleet could, and would, choose replacements. He was in no position to argue the decision this early on in his career, so he had bowed to the inevitable and vowed that when Gary was recovered, he would have him re-assigned to the Enterprise. Eventually, Gary would be his First Officer, Kirk was sure of that.

Spock was not entirely a stranger to Kirk - they had met once before at the Academy. He had attended a lecture given by the Vulcan (who was an upperclassman at the time) in his first semester. He had nearly fallen asleep during the presentation, though not because he was bored. The lecture had been quite fascinating, but Kirk had pulled an all-nighter to get through his astronomy exam that morning, and the effects had begun to catch up.

The Vulcan had pulled him aside after the class and reprimanded him for his lack of attention. As Kirk wandered the almost deserted corridors of his new Command, he hoped that the Vulcan first officer would not remember that particular incident.

Eventually, his travels took him to the place he really wanted to see - the bridge. As the red doors of the turbolift parted, Kirk was unsurprised to find that his command chair was occupied. Whilst in space dock, there was only a skeleton crew aboard, but the bridge was always manned by at least one Officer. Spock swivelled the chair around to face the unexpected visitor, and Kirk had his first experience of watching Spock's eyebrow fly into his hairline. The Vulcan stood quickly and folded his hands behind his back. "Captain Kirk, welcome aboard Sir. I was not informed of your arrival."

Kirk smiled in what he hoped was a friendly manner and stepped down from the upper deck. "I'm not really here Mr Spock, if you catch my drift?"

"I do not, Sir."

Kirk had been running his fingers over the navigation console. He turned to regard the tall dark haired Vulcan quizzically. He had forgotten that Vulcans took everything literally "What I mean is that I'm not officially here. I wanted to get the feel of the ship before I took command. You know, walk around before the crew came on board and indulge myself in a little self-congratulation."

The Vulcan remained standing to attention, but his face clearly showed his doubts as to the Captain's motives. "Aye sir. My shift ends in approximately 1.6 minutes, but I would be pleased to show you around should you desire it."

Then the turbolift doors opened for a second time, and a rather harried young Ensign spilled out onto the upper bridge level. "Ensign Wardlaw reporting for duty Sir - sorry I'm late."

The Ensign looked from Spock to Kirk, and flushed deep red. It was bad enough being late on Spock's shift, but to show herself up in front of the new Captain too. _My career is over_ she thought glumly.

Spock glanced down at the chronometer between navigation and helm and back at the nervous young woman. "You are not late Ensign - my shift does not end for another 58 seconds."

Kirk could not fully suppress the grin that was tugging at his mouth. Spock stood motionless as the seconds ticked by, and fixed the perspiring woman with a hard stare. At exactly the right time he said, "You have the con, Ensign."

Wardlaw almost leapt to the command chair. Spock walked slowly to the lift and hesitated turning back to the Captain. His eyebrow quirked again, which Kirk took to mean - _are you coming?_ Kirk vaulted up to the upper deck and joined his new First Officer at the lift.

"Thank you for your kind offer Mr Spock, I haven't seen the recreation facilities yet. Would you mind?"

The Vulcan stepped into the turbolift after Kirk and shook his head. "Of course not sir. Do you play chess?"

  


* * *

  


Kirk returned to the present, and realised that he was grinning like a fool at Spock's son, who in turn, was scowling back at him. Kirk stepped forward and tried to force his fingers into the Vulcan salute. He failed.

"You must be Ashan. I'm pleased to meet you."

The boy rudely turned his back on Kirk, and picking up a pebble, threw it absently into the fountain. Kirk frowned. He had been looking forward to meeting the boy, and this was not how he had pictured the scene. He tried again

"I'm James Kirk - my friends call me Jim."

The boy regarded Kirk over his shoulder, "I know who you are, Terran. My mother has told me all about you."

"Ah," said Kirk a little uneasily. What exactly had Seleya told the boy to make him react like that? He decided to try for a friendly tone, "So, how are you finding Vulcan? Beautiful place isn't it?"

The boy stood and pushed past the startled human. "If you like that sort of thing."

Kirk reacted without thinking. The boy's tone was getting under his skin, and he didn't like it. His hand shot out, and grabbed Ashan by the arm, his intention being to find out why the boy was being so hostile. He could not have foreseen the violence with which the boy reacted. For the second time that day, Kirk found himself flat on his backside.

"Keep you filthy hands off me, Terran. I have no desire to speak with you, or any of your kind - you would do well to remember that."

And with that, he stormed off into the house leaving Kirk rubbing at his bruised jaw yet again. Firm, strong hands hauled him to his feet and he turned expecting to see Spock, but it was Seleya who stood there.

She smiled slowly and reached forward to brush some of the dirt from Kirks arm. "You must forgive my son, Captain Kirk. He has recently discovered his true heritage, and it does not sit well with him."

"You mean he didn't know he was part human?"

"Until a week ago, my son thought that his father was as Romulan as I am. Their relationship has always been a difficult one. I fear the anger you just witnessed was more directed at his father, than you. I apologise for his behaviour."

Kirk absently brushed at the seat of his pants while regarding Seleya speculatively. "No need. I'm getting used to being assaulted by every Rihannsu I meet."

She surprised him by taking his arm and slowly leading him deeper into the garden. They walked in silence for a while then Kirk stopped and turned to her, feeling just about comfortable enough in this woman's presence, to risk asking a personal question.

"You said that the relationship had always been difficult. Why?"

"Logically - it was necessary for Ashan's survival, and for our continued safety, that he think of himself as Rihannsu. Spock could only make a very few trips to my world after we were married, so the boy grew up without getting to know his father. He resents his absence. We told him that Spock worked for the government, and had to be away a lot, but he felt abandoned.

By the time Spock came back to Rihannsu three years ago, the damage was already done. Even then, for obvious reasons, Spock could not visit often without blowing his cover. When we were forced to flee the Empire, it was necessary to tell Ashan the truth. He feels betrayed and disorientated and he focuses these feelings on his father. One can understand these feelings."

Kirk nodded and began walking again, unable to meet the woman's eyes. "I suppose so. My own son harboured some of the same feeling towards me."

"You speak in the past tense - I take it you resolved your differences?"

Kirk hesitated, then taking a deep breath he let it out slowly, "My son is dead, but you are right, we did manage to resolve our differences before he died. For that I will be eternally grateful."

She cast her gaze downward. "My apologies, Captain Kirk. It was not my intention to stir up painful memories. I am glad that you and your son finally found the good in one another. It is my hope that the same thing will happen for Spock and Ashan, one day. Unless they kill each other first."

Kirk laughed and rubbed absently at his jaw again, "He just needs some time to adjust to the changes. And to spend some quality time with his father."


	20. Not His Biggest Fan

The next day, Spock and Seleya left early, to attend the Vulcan High council meeting. Kirk slept late, a luxury he had not indulged in for many years. He had not seen Ashan since their encounter in the garden the day before, so he was surprised to find him in the kitchen.

At first, Kirk hesitated in the doorway, unwilling to provoke the boy into another show of hostility, but Ashan casually got up from the table and said, "Don't worry Terran, I'm finished here, and my father would be most displeased if you missed your breakfast on my account. When is he not?"

He opened the door that would lead out into the garden. Kirk sighed. Somewhere in the back of his mind a small voice was telling him to follow - to reach out to the boy somehow.

Even this early in the morning on Vulcan, the brightness was quite formidable, causing Kirk to shade his eyes as he left the house. Ashan was standing in the middle of Amanda's sand garden, kicking at the stones. Kirk felt outraged on Spock's behalf. He stood frozen in the doorway, wondering if he should announce himself. But the young Vulcan's keen hearing had already alerted him to Kirks presence. He spun round and glowered at the older man with open hostility.

Kirk hesitated. Lord knows he had tried to make friends with Spock's son. But the young man's barely concealed hatred had, so far, served only to anger Kirk. Perhaps he should just turn around now and go back into the house - leave the boy to his problems. It was none of his business. And yet he could not move. The look in Ashan's eyes was so familiar. He had seen it in his own sons' eyes not so long ago.

Kirk took a deep breath and stepped out into the garden. Ashan remained frozen in his belligerent stance until Kirk stopped before him.

"I thought I made it quite plain that I didn't want your company, Terran."

Kirk's eyes narrowed and his hands curled into fists, which he carefully placed on his hips. "You have a nasty attitude son - care to tell me what you have against me?"

Ashan let his gaze travel down to Kirk's boots and back up to his eyes before answering. "Your smell offends me."

Kirk sighed in frustration. Had he been on his ship right now, he would have chewed this guy's arrogant ass right off. But he wasn't Captain Kirk, hero of the galaxy, anymore, and this was not one of his cadets. This was an angry young man, Spock's son, and a stranger.

Maybe once, a long time ago, Kirk would have stood his ground. Maybe once, he would have used every means at his disposal to change the boy's mind.

But not now. He was tired, and he was old. Too old to make a difference, even to this one mixed-up boy.

He turned, with the intention of returning to the house, but Ashan clamped a hand onto his arm, effectively stopping Kirk in his tracks. He found himself forcefully whirled round to face the boy, who was radiating hatred from every pore.

"Backing down, Kirk? I don't think so. This time, my mother's not here to save you."

Kirk saw the fist pull back, and realised that if the boy hit him full force, it would probably break his neck. Instinctively, he ducked, and the fist whistled through the air, missing him by a few inches. His training in unarmed combat took over. With lightning reflexes, he caught the boy's head, and forced it down to meet his raised knee.

Ashan staggered backward clutching at his nose. A trickle of green blood dripped into his cupped hands. The boy stared at it in shock.

Kirk might have taken Ashan unawares this time, but knew he was no match for his youth, and physical superiority. He quickly raised his hands in a mollifying gesture. "All right, all right. That's enough. You've made your point. I have no idea what I did to piss you off so thoroughly, but I've learned my lesson."

Ashan advanced on Kirk, with a fire burning in his eyes so brightly that is put the sun's radiance to shame. Kirk took a hasty step backwards. "I don't want to fight you, son."

Ashan stopped, and wiped more blood from his nose. He extended the shaking, bloodied hand towards Kirk, palm up. "I bleed _green_ Kirk. How can I be human if I bleed green?"

Kirk frowned. He detected a note of uncertainty in the boy's voice that tore at his heart. The anger began to leave his body, as he realised that Ashan was in pain. Suddenly, the boy was unsure of who and what he was, unsure of his place in the cosmos. That, at least, Kirk could sympathise with.

Right now, James T Kirk was very unsure of his own place in this strange, future world. He slowly stepped forward and clutched the young Vulcan's shoulders. "You're being too hard on yourself son. You haven't changed. The world around you might have thrown you a body swerve, but you are still the same person."

Ashan jerked back from Kirk's grasp. "NO!!! I'm not. I don't expect you to understand Kirk - you carry only the blood of one race within your veins." Ashan was absently rubbing his bloodied palm against his thigh. "I am no longer Romulan, I don't want to be Vulcan and I...," he trailed off.

"Go ahead son - say it. The thought of being even remotely Human makes you sick?" Kirk gently took the boys' sagging shoulders again, and gave them a little shake, forcing eye contact. "What do you actually know about Terrans, Ashan? Give us a chance son, give yourself a chance, and for God's sake - give your father a chance. He might not be the person you thought he was - he might be someone even better."

Ashan's eyes clouded over momentarily then closed. For a moment, Kirk thought he might be getting through to the boy, but when he met Kirk's gaze again, there was something cold in them. He took a step back, and Kirk's hands fell to his sides.

"Everything he ever told me was a lie. Vulcan's aren't supposed to lie - are they Kirk?"

"Well...."

Ashan spun round and strode towards the gate at the bottom of the garden. He paused for a moment and looked at Kirk with eyes that reflected his inner pain only for a moment. "That man is not my father" He said in disgust,   
"I have no father."

And with that, he stepped out into the vast, shimmering, expanse that was Vulcan's Forge.

"Ashan, no!" Kirk gasped in shock. No one went into the desert without survival gear. It was suicide. But even as Kirk ran after him, he knew there was no physical way to stop the boy.

Standing on the edge of the Forge, he thought quickly. Maybe he couldn't stop Ashan from going into the desert but he could go after him. But not without grabbing some gear first. He may be old but he was not stupid. Twenty minutes later, Kirk had thrown his small bag of supplies into Spock's ground car, and was heading off over the sand, following the footprints, and hoping that the weather would remain calm long enough for him to find the boy.

* * *

Spock and Seleya walked in silence from the Great Hall. There was much to think about. Although the majority of the Vulcan High Council had maintained their position on the question of unification, Spock had been gratified to note that several of the younger members seemed to be wavering in their stance. He had found support coming from unexpected areas, and was grateful. Never the less, the council had voted overwhelmingly to remove Spock as Ambassador to Quon'os, and forbade him to continue his mission of peace.

At least officially. Spock called to mind the meeting with the leader of the High Council, after the debate closed. T'Lar had bade him remain, as the others began to file out of the huge room. When they were alone, T'Lar had regarded him in silence for several moments. If Spock had been fully Human, he may have broken into a sweat under such intense scrutiny.

Finally, she spoke. "Spock - there will be no more debate on the subject of Re-Unification in the Council Chambers. I would assume, however, that debate will continue unofficially amongst its members. This is what you intended?"

"T'Lar, my intention was to bring the question into the open forum, where it could at least have fair hearing. That much I have already achieved."

"And what are your intentions now, Spock, son of Sarek?"

Spock met her eyes unflinchingly. Vulcan's were perfectly capable of lying when they had to, but lying to a respected elder, for one's own gain, went far beyond excusable behaviour. "You already know the answer to that question, T'Lar."

"Evasion, Spock? - That is unworthy of you."

"Allow me to ask a question of you. No charges have been brought against me for my unsanctioned visits to the Rihannsu homeworld - this is not logical. I would know why?"

T'Lar turned and looked pointedly towards the chamber door, where Seleya stood patiently waiting for her husband, and then back at Spock. "We have long been aware of the nature of your visits and their frequency. For this reason alone, your trips were - overlooked."

Spock felt heat rising in his cheeks "My apologies, T'Lar - I was sure that I had used more discretion in this matter."

"Your aide - Surok, has kept us informed of your... activities for the past 40 years. He also informed us of your plans to meet with Pardek."

"And yet you did not try to prevent it."

T'Lar was silent again for a moment. Her expression did not change at all, yet Spock realised that she was considering how much to tell him. "Vulcan is not ready for unification Spock. But as you have argued, the day will come. As one man, working alone, you could lay the foundations for that day, but if you failed, the Vulcan High Council would remain officially clear from any repercussions with the Federation."

Spock steepled his fingers as the thought "Logical. I will, of course return to the Empire when it is safe to do so. My work will continue - unofficially."

"If that is thy will. Live long and prosper, Spock, son of Sarek."

"Peace and long life, T'Lar, until we meet again."

And she had turned regally and walked away.

Spock had remained motionless, deep in thought, until Seleya took his arm. He turned a faintly bemused gaze on her. "They have known all along."

Seleya tugged at his arm, seeing that her husband's tightly controlled emotions were perilously close to surfacing. "They must have approved then Spock, even if they could not admit it. This proves that your cause is just, and worthy. We will not abandon our efforts."

He began walking automatically towards the door but his mind was still focused on his anger. He had never appreciated being manipulated or used.

By the time they reached his house, Spock had grown calmer. There was little to be gained from dwelling on this turn of events. But as they approached the gate, Spock felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising. He knew there was something wrong on a purely instinctive level. He no longer felt the urge to dismiss such intuition.

Hesitating at the gate, he caught Seleya by the arm. "The car is missing," he stated flatly.

His wife looked at the spot where the vehicle had been parked, and shrugged, "Perhaps Kirk went for a drive?"

"I told him to remain in the house until we returned."

"And since when has Kirk taken orders form you Spock?"

Spock did not look at his wife, but pushed open the gate and entered the house. His keen Vulcan hearing picked up no sound from within. He did not have to shout to know that there was no one here.

A slight gust of wind caressed his face as he headed for the kitchen, Seleya close behind. The back door, which led into the garden, was ajar, and already, sand was blowing into the room. No Vulcan in his right mind would leave a house open to the elements this close to the desert.

Spock looked at Seleya now. "They left in a hurry."

"They?"

"Ashan is also gone."

They had stepped out into the garden. Spock shielded his eyes against the wind and pointed at the open garden gate. The footprints of one person were visible leading out into the desert, but even as he watched, the swirling sand filled the tracks.

"It is obvious that one person walked into the desert and the other followed by groundcar. Jim knows better than to walk in the Forge during daylight hours."

Seleya clutched at her husband's arm, "Spock, Ashan has no desert survival training - he cannot survive the Forge can he?"

Spock closed the gate and headed back to the house. "If Jim has gone after him, his odds of survival are higher. However I do not intend to sit back and wait."

* * *

Kirk swore loudly at no-one in particular. He had been praying for calm weather, and had got a sandstorm. Not a particularly fierce one, but bad enough to obliterate any tracks. It had not lasted long either, but Kirk had been forced to stop the car and wait it out. Spock, with typical Vulcan logic, kept a shovel in his groundcar, but after half and hour of digging in the blistering heat, Kirk had begun to realise that he had come as far as he could by car.

He scanned the horizon, and focused in on a large rock formation a few miles ahead. Or at least it looked like a few miles, distances could be deceiving in a desert. He reasoned that Ashan would probably have made for the relative shelter of the rocks when the sand storm hit, so that's where he would go too. He also knew enough about Vulcan to know that the rocks would make good shelter for some of the planets less friendly fauna.

Shouldering the heavy bag, and wiping perspiration from his eyes, he gave the air-conditioned ground car one final, whimsical glance, before setting off at a light jog.


	21. Le-matya

  


Kirk was gasping for breath by the time he reached the rocky outcrop. He sunk down onto a low rock and rummaged in the bag for the first aid kit. As expected, there was a hypo of tri-ox, which Kirk gratefully jabbed into his arm. He then dealt with the problem of dehydration by slugging down a good measure of water from his canteen. He could feel the sun beating down on his head, and chided himself for not donning the protective headgear sooner. That would be just great, wouldn't it? The hero of the Galaxy, the Great James T Kirk, strides off into the desert like Lawrence of Arabia on a mission of mercy, only to die of heat stroke.

He looked up at the sky, shading his eyes from the glare. It was nearly mid-day. He had to take shelter before Vulcan's fiery sun cooked him alive.

He scanned the rocks for a suitable place, and hoped that Ashan had made the same decision. Vulcan's Forge was a very well named.

By the time Kirk had found an area of shade amongst the rocks, he was sweating and breathing heavily again. Perhaps this wasn't such a bright idea. Perhaps he should have waited for Spock to return and let him deal with it all. After all, humans were extremely ill suited for survival in these conditions. Vulcan's of course were almost born to it. It occurred to Jim then, that Ashan was probably swell suited to it too. Wouldn't it be just dandy if the boy had to rescue _him_?

Then he heard it. A sound he had heard before, and one he had hoped never to hear again. It was a cross between a growl and a hiccup, and it was much nearer to him than was comfortable.

He scanned the local area but could see nothing. That was not so surprising. The le-matya, a large desert swelling carnivore that looked like a green mountain lion with scales, would be crouching among the rocks. You never saw a le-matya until it was going for your throat.

This time, when he heard the growl, his ears triangulated on an extremely rocky area at the top of the rise. The animal seemed to be moving away from him, and it was definitely hunting something. They were silent until nearly ready to attack. Whatever this one was stalking, was about to die.

Kirk quietly picked up several large stones and began picking his way over the rocks, hoping that the animal would overlook his approach in favour of its prey.

He had only gone a few meters when he saw the beast leap from its cover, and pounce on something. He heard a scream and knew it was Ashan. He covered the rest of the distance in seconds, but Ashan and the le-matya had evidently fallen from the ridge onto a natural amphitheatre of rock. It was too deep for either of them to climb out, and so they circled each other warily, the le-matya looking for an opening to attack, Ashan looking for a weapon.

Kirk hefted the largest of his rocks and threw it with unflinching accuracy at the prowling beast. It skidded sideways and roared in pain, as the rock caught it just above the eye. Forgetting momentarily about its intended victim, the huge beast leapt at Kirk, fangs flashing in the sunlight. It failed to reach to top of the ridge, but not by a large margin.

Kirk looked around for another weapon and spotted a long piece of bamboo-like wood. It was heavy enough to do serious damage, so stripping off the lower branches by hand, Kirk returned to the spectacle below. Ashan had picked up some rocks of his own by now and was keeping the animal at bay with several well aimed shots to the head and body. Kirk didn't want to distract him, so he waited until the two combatants had circled and Ashan was facing him, to throw the weapon down to him.

Ashan leapt up, caught the heavy branch in one hand and brought it round in a wide arc, smashing it into the le-matya's head.

The animal howled in pain as it rolled several times under the impact. Ashan was sweating heavily. Kirk noticed the tear in his tunic. Damn! The poison from the le-matya's claws would work quickly to paralyse the boy, who was already weakened by the heat and the fight. Kirk knew he had to do something fast. He located another smaller branch and with a banshee wail, he launched himself into the arena, landing heavily between Ashan and the deadly beast.

Now faced with two potential foes, the animal slowly backed off, until it was up against the wall. Kirk locked eyes with it, and slowly backed away until he stood beside the boy.

"Did it break the skin?" he asked through clenched teeth.

Ashan pressed his hand against the tear and it came away covered in green blood. He began to shake, either with fear or as a result of the poison, Kirk couldn't tell, The first aid kit contained the antidote but it was still up on the ridge.

"Try not to move too much. It'll just speed up the reaction."

The le-matya growled again and began to slowly advance on the two men. Kirk jabbed at it with his stick, but the animal didn't react this time. It circled to the left, focusing all its attention on Kirk, as if realising that the boy was no longer a threat.

Ashan dropped his weapon and sunk slowly to his knees. Kirk kept the boy behind him as he faced the snarling le-matya. "Kirk..." the boy gasped, "...let it come for me. You can climb... to safety... while it is distracted."

"No way." A poison tipped claw shot out and clipped the end of Kirk's stick.

"You must... save yourself. My father... my father would be most..."

The le-matya gathered itself to spring, and Kirk took a steadying breath. He had fought a le-matya before, but that had been nearly 25 years ago and he had been much fitter. He tried not to remember that the animal had almost won back then.

The odds against surviving his time were small, but Kirk specialised in beating bad odds, and besides, he would rather die that let the beast have Spock's son. He held the stick in both hands and waited.

The beast leapt, and Kirk slammed the stick into its face. The impact threw him backwards, but he allowed himself to be borne to the ground. Lifting his feet up into the animals midriff he rolled backwards and kicked so that the le-matya flew over his head. It landed some feet away. Kirk scrambled to his feet, clutching at his hip where something hard had dug into it. His hand closed on a small object nestled in his pocket, that until this moment he had completely forgotten about.

The le-matya was on its feet against and coiling its heavily muscled body for another jump. Kirk whipped out the phaser, aimed, and fired.

Nothing happened.

He had a second to realise that he had pressed the wrong button, before he saw the beast leap again. He had no time to heft his stick, no time to roll out of the way, no time to do anything but raise his arm to protect his face. The ferocious hiss of the leaping predator suddenly turned to a howl of pain as it was caught in a phaser beam set on full intensity. It was held for barely a second before disappearing, leaving a lightly acrid smell hanging in the air.

Kirk dropped his arm and gazed in awe at the empty space before him. He sighed in relief, and turned in the direction from which the phaser had been fired. On the top of the ridge behind him, a figure stood silhouetted against the sun.

"Spock, get the first aid kit. Ashan need the le-matya venom antidote," he yelled, shading his eyes from the sun's glare.

There was no answer from the shadowy figure on the ridge. Kirk took a couple of steps backward. "Spock...?"

Suddenly, the figure jumped, and landed in front of Kirk. He looked over towards the boy, who was now nearly unconscious. Reaching into the folds of his long flowing tunic, the stranger pulled out the first aid kit, and tossed it to Kirk. Catching it deftly the captain hurried to Ashan's side, and fitted the correct vial to the hypo. He hoped that the dosage was the same for Romulans as it was for Vulcans. Within a moment, the boy's breathing had steadied. Kirk straightened and regarded the stranger coolly.

"Thank you, sir. You saved our lives."

"A most interesting diversion. For a while there, I actually thought you would win without my aid."

Kirk too a step forward, his brows drawing together angrily. "You mean you were watching all that? How long?"

"Long enough to know that the boy is of some importance to you. You were willing to die in order to save him, were you not?"

Kirk had never seen this man before in his life, but somehow he knew exactly who it was that had saved his life.

"Lien!"

"Oh, well done, Kirk. Now that the introductions are over, it is time for us to leave this place, pleasant thought it is."

The being raised his hand, but Kirk interrupted him.

"Wait! We can't leave the boy here. He'll die."

"That is of no import to me, but it may be interesting to see exactly how far you would be willing to go to protect him." Lien appeared lost in thought for a moment. "Very well, bring him."

Kirk hauled Ashan to his feet and they disappeared in a blinding flash of light.

Three hours later, Spock found Kirk's bag amongst the rocks and located the stone amphitheatre where signs of a struggle were still evident. There, he found a broken stick covered in red le-matya blood, and a discarded Starfleet issue phaser. He also found spots of green blood in the sand, but here the trail ended. With a sense of deep shock, Spock realized that he had failed to protect Kirk from the Q. And it had also cost him the life of his son.


	22. Call me Jim

Kirk materialised in a lush garden landscape, birds sung in the distance, and he could hear the faint bubble of a waterfall off to the right. Ashan lay at his feet. The boy had regained consciousness, but looked decidedly pale.

Lien was breathing rapidly, an insane glint in his eyes, and a feral smile on his thin lips. "At last - I have you both. I will have my revenge on you."

Suddenly he erupted into a coughing fit, and vanished before Kirk's eyes. So - it was true - Lien was getting weaker. Kirk bent to check on Ashan. Apart from the unearthly pallor, the boy seemed to be recovering. Obviously, Romulan's had the same constitution as Vulcans.

Ashan pushed him away, but Kirk refused to be intimidated. He pulled the tiny hand held scanner from the medical kit, and ran it once over the boy. The readings were all way off - for a human. Kirk had only limited medical training, and little experience with extra-terrestrial life forms. He had always relied heavily on McCoy when it came to matters of medicine.

He cursed himself now for his lack of knowledge and tipped the scanner towards Ashan, "Do these reading look okay to you?"

Ashan took the scanner and scowled at it for a moment then handed it back to Kirk. "My training is in astrophysics and astral navigation - this could be the medical readout of the Praetor himself, and I would not know. However - I feel much better if that helps."

Kirk couldn't help smiling. If Spock wanted to develop his sense of humour much further - he could learn a lot from his son. He tossed the scanner back into the kit and sat down in the grass next to Ashan.

"It helps. I wouldn't like to think I'd gone through the last three hours for a dead man."

Ashan sighed and looked at Kirk in confusion. "I told you I wanted to be alone, and yet you followed me."

"Well - the Forge is much harder to survive than you may think. Distances distort, and a person can get disorientated easily. Not even a full blooded Vulcan would venture out there in broad daylight without survival gear."

"So a half-caste like me had no chance, eh?"

Kirk frowned at the boy's tone. He could feel his hackles rising along with his anger. Before he could calm down the words fell out. "I wouldn't have put it like that, but why state the obvious? That Le-matya obviously saw you as an easy lunch."

"Says the man who doesn't even know how to fire a phaser."

Kirk opened his mouth to reply but found that nothing came out. The boy was right. If Lien hadn't killed the Le-matya, they would both be dead right now. He turned away and rubbed his aching temples.

Behind him Ashan felt colour flood his cheeks. This man, this _insignificant, weakling Terran,_ had thrown himself into the arena armed only with a stick, and stood between him and the snarling beast, ready to die to protect him, and all he could do was hurl abuse.

The truth was that Ashan was ashamed. His anger came not from a desire to wound his protector, but from a newly awakening realisation that he had been very wrong about this man and others of his kind. The Humans that Ashan had met since leaving home had proved to be brave, resourceful and intelligent. These were qualities he had never expected to find in the Human race. If bravery were a virtue peculiar to Rihannsu's alone, then this one could be born of that world.

He was ashamed of the way he had spoken to this worthy one, but he had no idea how to rectify his behaviour. The words "I am sorry" echoed through his head, but somehow, he could not yet speak them.

Kirk got slowly to his feet and scanned the area around them. The breeze was cool and refreshing and the sun warm. It really was a beautiful place. He followed the path of the meandering brook to its source at the bottom of a hill, where the waterfall sparkled.

Kirk pointed at the crystal clear pool. "We should probably drink some water. Who knows when we'll get the chance again?"

Without waiting, Kirk strode off in the direction of the waterfall, leaving Ashan to follow if he wished.

Kirk had only travelled a few meters, when he saw the man sitting under the tree. He looked as if he were asleep, his ragged sleeve thrown across his face. Kirk picked up the pace, and began to jog towards the stranger. Even though he couldn't see the man's face, and even if he could have, would not have recognised it, he was sure he knew whom he would find.

He stopped a few feet from the tree and cleared his throat. The man sat bolt upright, and Kirk gasped. His face was a mass of bruises, some old some new, one eye swollen shut, his clothes were torn and bloodied.

The man held his hand up to block out the sunlight. "Who's there?" he rasped.

Ashan appeared at Kirks elbow and stared at the stranger in shock. "What happened to him?"

Kirk knelt in the soft grass and laid a hand on the man's shoulder. "Jim Kirk - you must be Picard?"

Picard closed his eyes and moaned. "Oh no."

Kirk fished around in his bag for the scanner, and ran it over the battered body. These reading were clear enough even for someone with limited medical knowledge - cracked ribs, extensive bruising, lacerations, dehydration, exhaustion, malnutrition - this man had been tortured.

Kirk selected a hypo of stimulant, and a wide spectrum antibiotic to protect against infection, and administered it quickly to the other mans arm. Picard smiled weakly and struggled to sit up straight. Kirk was surprised to find that Ashan reached forward to help him.

Picard nodded to the boy. "Thanks. I must look bad... if a Vulcan is willing to... offer his hand."

Kirk caught the surprised look in the boy's eyes, which was quickly masked. Picard was trying to talk again, but his throat was so dry that the words came out as a rough whisper. Again Kirk was surprised when Ashan hurried to the pool and returned moments later with some water cupped in his hands.

Kirk helped Picard sit forward as the boy offered him the water.

"Thank you." Picard wiped shaky hands over his mouth, and turned to the other Captain. "I hope you will forgive me for saying....that I am _not_ happy to see you again."

"Again?"

Picard sighed and shook his head. "Never mind. Long story, and quite frankly - I don't have the energy."

Kirk squinted up into the leafy canopy overhead and smiled. "I understand. Lien did quite a good job on you, Captain Picard. How long has he had you?"

"No idea. Haven't slept in... don't know how long."

"Do you know _why_ you were taken?"

Ashan looked intently from one man to the other. Kirk realised that the boy had no idea what was going on.

Picard shrugged painfully. "He wants to kill me. Oh, and you as well, Captain Kirk. He also mentioned destroying humanity as revenge for what we did to him. I'm afraid I don't know _what_ that was, but it involves the nexus - which, incidentally, is where we are right now."

Picard slumped back and closed his eyes, as if the effort of relating all that had tired him. He pointed weakly at the first aid kit. "Are there any painkillers in there, Captain?"

"Call me Jim."

Picard's eyes, suddenly sharply in focus, snapped open to impale Kirk with their intensity. His slow smile was both amused and poignant.

Kirk turned to reach for the bag, only to find that Ashan was already holding out the prepared hypo. The change in behaviour from the boy puzzled Kirk, but he said nothing, and took the hypo nodding his thanks.

As he administered the painkiller, Kirk scanned the area again. "The nexus is a conduit that the Q use to travel to our continuum. When you left it to go after Soran, you somehow damaged the fabric of fluid time within it. Lien was inside at the time and he was badly injured. He blames you and I for this turn of events, and has decided to destroy everything we hold dear, then kill us both."

"Forgive me for being so blunt, Jim - but I buried your body on Veridian III. When Lien talked of coming after you - I thought he must be insane."

"And you were right - but for the wrong reasons. Look it's a very long story, much of which I don't really understand myself, but the gist of it is - the Kirk you met in the nexus was only an echo of me - one of the alternative realities which I created during the 80 years I was in there."

"I... see."

Ashan stared at Kirk in disbelief. "How do we know you are the _real_ Kirk?"

"Truthfully son, _I_ don't even know if I'm the real Kirk, but you father seemed sure, and that's all I need to know."

Picard was getting stronger. He hauled himself to his feet and, as Ashan and Kirk followed suit, he squinted at the young boy carefully. "I know you."

"No sir. We've never met."

"Never the less, you are familiar. Who is your father?"

Ashan heard the words echo through his head loudly and damningly - _that man is not my father, I have no father._ He felt the colour rise to his cheeks, and hung his head in shame. Kirk was frowning at him when he looked back up.

Holding the other mans enquiring glance he said, "My father is Ambassador Spock of Vulcan." He did not miss the slight smile, which formed at the corner of Kirk's mouth.

Picard gasped. "That's not possible."

Ashan turned and faced the other Captain. "I am half Romulan."

Picard leaned back against the tree trunk, and for a moment, Kirk though he would pass out, but he recovered with admirable speed. Straightening again, Picard smiled and clasped the boy's shoulders warmly. "Well I'll be dammed. He never even let on... I'm very pleased to meet you, son. Your father is a great man, as was his father before him. What's your name?"

"Ashan."

Picard suddenly glanced at Kirk and smiled again. "Of course it is."


	23. There's No Place Like Home

Spock sat alone in his study trying to meditate. He was failing. Over and over again, his mind replayed the events of the past few days, trying to see what he could have done to prevent this from happening. But try as he might, he knew deep down, that he was not to blame. Lien would have found Kirk no matter where or _when_ they had gone. It had only been a matter of time.

As if reading his mind, Seleya appeared at the door and said, "Even if you had been with him, there was nothing you could have done. You do know that don't you?"

Spock sighed. "Perhaps."

Seleya walked into the study and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Kirk will survive. There is just no killing some people."

"Are you trying to make me feel better or worse my wife?" Before she could answer, the room brightened by several degrees and they were no longer alone. Spock shot to his feet and gasped at the tall dark man.

Seleya regarded the newcomer coolly. "Spock - who is this?"

Q looked Seleya up and down once and then dismissed her. "Spock - at last. When you didn't return, I assumed you'd been trapped in the nexus. It's taken this long to find you. Why did you return to _this_ time period?"

"It was not my intention. The nexus did not act in the manner we assumed. Were you successful?"

"I failed. Picard was already gone when I arrived at his home. And you?"

"I _was_ successful in retrieving Captain Kirk, but since then, Lien has captured him and returned with him to the nexus."

"Damn."

"That is not all. My son had also been taken into the nexus."

The man seemed genuinely surprised. "Perhaps Kirk will find a way to defeat Lien from within."

"You believe that?"

"No, not really."

Spock licked dry lips and glowered at Q angrily. "I think it is time you took responsibility for your kinsman's actions. You have tried using me as an intermediary and it did not work. Face up to the facts - this is your problem. _Deal_ with it."

"I will not enter the nexus. Remember - it sent Lien mad."

"You have no proof that is what caused Lien's insanity and nothing to indicate that the same fate would befall you. You are afraid. Your cowardice will cost the lives of every living thing in this reality if you do not act soon."

The man began pacing the small study. "Don't lecture me, Spock. I've already interfered in this reality more than our continuum allows. This mission was not undertaken lightly."

"A member of your continuum is the cause of all this. It is your _duty_ to intervene. Will you stand back and allow him to achieve his goals and do nothing? That will make you no better than he - it will make you an accessory to his plans for mass genocide. Can you truly live with all those deaths on your conscious because you are _afraid?_ "

Q stopped his frantic pacing and spun round to fix Spock with an icy glare. "You would have me risk my life?"

"I _demand_ that you risk your life - just as I have, just as Kirk and Picard have. We were prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice - you can do no less."

Q closed his eyes momentarily then turned his back on Spock. "You ask too much. To take such a risk would be... suicide. I must think about this."

And he was gone. Spock sunk down into his chair and laid his head on his hands. Seleya rubbed gently at his neck. "Will he do it?"

Spock did not raise his head. "I do not know. I hope so."

"Hope? Is that not illogical, Spock?"

This time he did look up into her eyes, his own so full of pain it made her heart bleed. "Perhaps. But it is all that I have left."

* * *

"We have to get him to attack us whilst he is still weak - otherwise we don't stand a chance," Kirk was saying.

Picard nodded. "I agree. Leaving the nexus seems to tire him. Each time he comes back, his powers have faded. I was able to maintain this reality myself."

"Can you manipulate it?"

"Only a little. I managed to make an apple grow on an oak tree earlier but that seems to be the extent of my control."

Ashan joined the other two men. "But you are weak Picard, perhaps the two of us would have better luck?" He turned his hopeful gaze on Kirk. The Captain seemed to be deep in thought.

After a moment of tense silence, Picard clapped Kirk loudly on the back, "I know that look - you have a plan."

"Maybe..." Kirk murmured, then louder, "He's weak, his powers seem to have diminished to the point where he is almost human. I'm willing to bet that right now, the three of us could beat him at his own game even within the nexus. I don't remember much about my time in there. Were you able to create people as well as settings?"

Picard was smiling broadly. "Yes, Rene was there and I had a wife and children. They seemed so real at the time."

"Good. We have to create a reality where _we_ are in control. If we can fool him into believing we have left the nexus - he'll be at an even greater disadvantage. And I think I have the perfect place... but first we have to create a false trail."

"What do you propose?"

Kirk took Picard and Ashans wrists firmly and closed his eyes. Then he did something which Ashan found totally incomprehensible. He clicked his heels together three times and began repeating the mantra "There's no place like home, there's no place like home...."

* * *

They found themselves standing in a clearing in the middle of a forest. The small yellow sun was beginning to sink below the trees casting long shadows.

Picard spun round and asked tensely. "Did you do this, Kirk? Where are we?"

Kirk opened one eye, smiled and opened the other eye. "My uncle's farm. When I was a boy, my brother and I used to play hide and seek in these woods."

Ashan stared around him in awe at the giant redwoods. He had never seen trees so incredibly large in his life. Somehow they made him feel insignificant. Kirk was smiling in a most paternal manner at him. "Well, we know we can do it - now to create that trail for our friend to follow."

Ashan, who had been touching the red bark of an ancient tree, turned to the two Captains. "Let me choose our next destination?"

Kirk smiled indulgently at the boy. "Knock yourself out son."

Ashan frowned and looked down at his toes, then inspiration struck and he closed his eyes. Kirk realised a fraction of a second too slow, that the boy stood alone, not touching his companions. Before he could reach for him, he was gone, leaving the two older men staring at empty space. Kirk cursed under his breath. "Damn. Kids today - they have no patience."

Picard shook his head. "Perhaps he'll be safer away from us for the moment, and we can't risk waiting for him - its time to move on."

Kirk looked as if he would argue then the fight left him and he nodded slowly. Picard held out his hand and hesitating only a moment, Kirk took it. Then they were gone.

* * *

Lien stood amidst the beauty of the Garden of Eden and saw none of it. Somehow his prisoners had escaped. He cursed himself for not anticipating this. Picard had been too weak to break out of his reality but Kirk - He was strong and focused. It would not be hard for such an individual to manipulate realities.

Lien thought fast. As a member of the continuum, he could travel through fluid time quicker than they could and he could easily follow their trail. It was only a matter of time before he caught them again and when he did... they would be sorry.

* * *

Ashan realised two things. He was alone, and this wasn't where he was supposed to be. The moment he had left Lien's reality, the nexus had taken over his subconscious mind and created this new reality for him. He had wanted to create the vision of a place he had once been as a child, a vast cornfield deep within the agricultural belt of his home continent. He remembered running into the field and discovering that the corn was twice as tall as he was. He had theorised that the cornfield would make an excellent environment to hide in and lay a false trail. After all it had taken his mother nearly five hours to find him.

Obviously this was no cornfield. Ashan had no clear memory of the first time he had met his father, at 7 standard years old, he was a toddler in Vulcan or Romulan terms. But the second time was nearly 17 standard years later. He had been a young boy of 10.

He had not understood why his mother had taken him to a friend's house to stay. It had been several days later that he had finally met the man who was his father. In retrospect, Ashan could understand why this had been necessary but at the time, he felt abandoned and had made sure the Vulcan knew about it.

The nexus had taken him to that day - his first meeting with his father. Ashan was standing on a high plateau above his mothers' house. Any moment now, Spock would emerge from the trees behind him and introduce himself. And Ashan would spit at his feet.

He felt the colour rising in his cheeks at the memory. How would his life have changed if he had not been so bitter and angry on that first day? Was it possible to heal the rift at its source? While still contemplating the possibilities, Ashan heard a twig break behind him and turned slowly.

The tall man hesitated barely a second before stepping out into the light. "Ashan? My name is Spock, I am your father."


	24. Self Desctruct

Captain Jean-Luc Picard felt like he was home; on the bridge of his ship. That he considered the Enterprise to be his true home, came as somewhat of a shock to him. The French provincial farmhouse in La Barre, France, was his past - This was his future. The realisation heartened him.

He had to admit that Kirk's plan was brilliant. They had decided on the Enterprise-D because of its superior twenty-fourth century technology. Of course the bridge was deserted. An illusion this complicated would be difficult enough to maintain without having to add people to the equation.

Kirk was looking around in wonder. " _This_ is your Enterprise? She's beautiful!"

"Your Chief Engineer certainly thought so."

Kirk glanced sharply at Picard and then smiled. "Well, if Scotty gave her his seal of approval...."

Picard sat in his chair and indicated that Kirk should take the First Officer's position. When the other captain was seated, Picard turned to him. We can't make our victory too easy - otherwise he won't believe it's real."

"Don't worry, I haven't got a clue how anything works on this ship and Lien knows that. Lets go over the plan again."

* * *

Lien was breathing heavily by the time he had tracked down the two humans, and sweating profusely. It had not been an easy task. They had led him a merry dance and they had split up. The Vulcan was of no consequence. Lien has found him trapped within an alternate reality and left him there to fester. His prey were much more intelligent than he had given them credit for. They had stayed one step ahead of him the entire time. But this reality came as a shock to Lien. Unlike all the others, this was a Starship, and Kirk and Picard were waiting for him.

Kirk had a strange feral smile planted on his lips and even Picard looked smug. Lien advanced on them slowly, warily, taking in his surroundings with suspicion. Kirk did not wait for Lien to speak; he stood, planning his balled fists on his hips.

"Are you impressed Lien? Not only can we move through the nexus like you, but we can also leave it and go back in time to any point we want."

"Impossible! This is merely another illusion..."

Picard tugged at Kirk's arm and stage whispered, "Let him believe that Kirk. By the time he figures it out, it will be too late."

Lien shook his head in confusion. He glared at the two humans and tried to guess what their plan was. If they had really left the nexus, he was in trouble. He could not afford to spend any more time in this space. He also doubted that he had enough strength to transport all three of them back there. And why had they chosen to come out of the nexus at this point in space-time?

He stared at Kirk and his devilish smile accusingly. Kirk shook off the other captain's hand. "No. Lien, this really _is_ the Enterprise. We have just tricked you into leaving the nexus and we know how weak that makes you."

"If this is real - where are your bridge crew?"

Damn, Kirk had hoped he wouldn't notice that. But Picard had the angle covered. "I ordered them to report to the auxiliary bridge and begin the saucer separation sequence. I don't need their help to defeat you, Lien. I have Kirk. Your biggest mistake was putting two Starfleet captains together. You really don't stand a chance against us both you know."

"We shall see." Lien began advancing on the two men, but Picard leapt to his feet and shouted, "Computer, erect a level 10 force-field around the intruder!"

A shimmer of gold coloured static appeared between Lien and his prey, accompanied by a faint metallic buzz. When the air cleared, Lien began to advance again, sure that their plan had failed and confident that even if the force field did exist, he would be able to pass right through it. He was wrong.

As he touched the shield, it flashed back into the visible spectrum and threw him forcefully back wards. He scrambled to his feet and looked at Picard with astonishment. The captain smiled broadly, "Do you believe me now?"

Kirk sauntered up to the force-field perimeter and fixed Lien with a look of pure loathing. "Beam him into space."

Picard sighed, "I can't."

Kirk whirled round and stared at the other captain in disbelief then he turned back slowly to stare at Lien again. "If you won't - I will. Computer, beam the intruder to a point 3.5 kilometres in front of this ship."

The computer's female voice seemed to hesitate before stating, _Warning. Safety overrides in place. The specified co-ordinates do not meet with current humanoid survival parameters. Please re-calculate._

Picard laid a consoling hand on Kirk's shoulder. "It wasn't that I didn't want to do it, Jim. The computer won't let us beam anyone into space without a space suit. Sorry."

"Damn!" Kirk began pacing the bridge.

Lien relaxed visibly then began to laugh. "Face it Kirk - you don't know enough about this century's technology to defeat me. And Picard hasn't got the b...."

Kirk suddenly stopped pacing and glanced at Picard. A smile was forming at the corner of his mouth. "Computer, initiate Emergency Medical Hologram and transfer control to the bridge."

The short, balding doctor immediately appeared and turned towards Kirk enquiringly. "Please state the nature of the medical emergency."

"Doctor, we need to sedate this prisoner." Kirk said coldly.

The holographic doctor pulled out his medical tricorder and scanned their captive. A moment later he flipped the tricorder shut and shook his head. "I am afraid that will not be possible. This being is unknown to medical science. In order to sedate him, I would first have to conduct a complete blood chemistry and anatomical analysis."

Kirk scowled at the doctor and raised his hands in supplication. "Just give him a triple dose of whatever you have available."

The doctor stared at Kirk as though he were a lab rat that refused to enter the maze. "I am sure you are aware that could kill him. Killing my patients is not part of my programming. Do you wish me to begin the analysis?"

Picard shook his head and stepped forward. "That will not be necessary. Computer end program."

The doctor dissolved into the air. Kirk leaned closer to Picard (although they were still close enough to Lien for him to overhear) and sighed. "Strike two. That leaves us only one option."

"Self-destruct?"

Lien threw himself towards the force-field only to be thrown back again with equal force. He glared at the two men in confusion. "You can't be serious? You'll die. Isn't that what you've been trying to avoid all along?"

Picard favoured him with a sympathetic smile. "But you'll die with us and humanity will survive. That's what we wanted all along. Computer, initiate Auto-Destruct Sequence Alpha, authorisation - Picard, Jean-Luc, four-seven-alpha-tango."

The computer replied, _Identity verified, awaiting confirmation._

Kirk stared at Lien until he was forced to meet the captain's eyes. "Computer, confirm auto-destruct sequence alpha, authorisation - Kirk, James T, three-two-gamma-delta."

 _Identity verified. Awaiting final confirmation._

Kirk glanced enquiringly at Picard who shrugged slightly. The seconds ticked by and the computer repeated its request for final confirmation. Suddenly the bridge doors parted and a tall figure strode towards them.

He glanced up at the speaker overhead and said, "Computer, confirm auto-destruct sequence alpha, authorisation Riker, William T, two-five-sierra-tango. Enable."

 _Identity verified. Self destruct in 10 minutes._

Picard turned to fix his first officer with an icy glare. "I thought I told you to report to the battle bridge, Mr Riker?"

"Yes sir, but you need three command line officers to blow up a Starship, as you well know."

Picard clapped Riker on the shoulder and smiled, "Indeed I do. Thank you commander."

Kirk was shaking his head and laughing. At their puzzled expressions, he shrugged. "This predilection for disobeying direct orders, it must be a universal flaw with the genetic make up of first officers."

Their mutual commiseration society was cut short by Lien, now shaking with rage, "You're all mad! You have fought me for your lives, and now you would destroy yourselves in order to kill me. It makes no sense!"

Kirk walked up to the force field until he felt the static buzz against his face, "Of course it makes sense, Lien. Our sacrifice ensures the survival of mankind. If we were afraid to die for so noble a cause, we wouldn't be Starfleet Officers."

 _Self-destruct in 7 minutes_ , stated the computer flatly. Lien pushed himself as close to the force field as he could. The two men appeared to be standing almost toe-to-toe. "You are an imbecile, Kirk! An inferior, weakling, lunatic! How has your puny race survived so long without blowing itself to pieces? All you know is violence. I'm doing your Universe a favour by destroying it. Look at you. I can read it in your eyes. You want to tear me apart with your bare hands, don't you, Kirk?"

Kirk took a step back and said quietly over his shoulder "Lower the force-field, Jean-Luc."

"Jim, no...."

"He's not going anywhere - he's too weak. Lower it Picard. NOW!"

At Picard's quietly spoken command, the force field dropped in a shimmer of static. The computer tried in vain to inject a note of sanity.

 _Self destruct in 5 minutes._

Kirk launched himself at Lien. The two men rolled across the deck, grappling for each other's throats. Kirk managed to pin the Q beneath himself, and smashed a fist cleanly into the other man's jaw. But Lien's arms were longer, and he locked his hands firmly round the captain's throat.

They rolled again, and Kirk broke the chokehold kicking out as he scrambled to his feet. Lien avoided the flying foot and wrapped his arms tightly around Kirk, squeezing the breath from him.

Kirk gasped and struggled against the constricting arms but couldn't break free. His vision began to cloud, but he managed to bring his elbow back sharply once, twice and then a third bone-crunching time into Lien's rib cage.

The Q staggered back, clutching at his injured ribs. Kirk threw himself at the Q again, this time leading with his foot. They both went down in a tangle of legs and arms. Kirk forced Lien face down on the deck and took a handful of hair. Tugging the other man's head up he hissed against his ear, "Time's up."

The computer was calmly announcing, _Self destruct in 10 seconds ...9 ...8 ...7_

Lien twisted frantically and screamed, "No!!!"

 _...6 ...5 ...4 ..._

There was a flash of light and Lien was gone. Kirk looked up at Picard who met his eyes without fear.

 _...3 ...2 ...1_

Both men smiled.


	25. Better Late Than Never

Picard grabbed Kirk's arm and tugged "Jim - look!"

Kirk turned at the urgency in Picard's voice. Ashan was running towards them from the direction of the forest. He smiled at the two men in obvious relief. "Did you do it? Where is Lien?"

Picard got to his feet and met the boy with outstretched hand. Ashan took the proffered hand and pumped it vigorously as Picard said, "Living in his own little fantasy world, I imagine."

The three men regarded each other hopefully but it was left to Kirk to add the voice of reason. "What now? If we just walk out of here, will we damage the nexus further?"

Picard was about to answer, when suddenly there was a bright flash of light and all three men instinctively covered their eyes. The tall dark man that appeared before them seemed to be wearing an old style Starfleet uniform. He was also grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Jean-Luc, I can hardly believe this, but it seems you have succeeded in protecting each other far better than I did."

Picard stepped forward and addressed himself to the smiling man. "You took your time getting here, Q!"

Q smiled sheepishly and clapped Picard on the shoulder. "Nice to see you too Jean-Luc. Congratulations on your final solution to the problem of Lien. How on Earth did you work out that he would be trapped in his own illusion of reality?"

Kirk answered that question. "Humans find it impossible to differentiate between reality and illusion when in the nexus. It sure suckered me for eighty years. So long as you don't have any reason to come out, you just don't question it. Lien was so weakened by our efforts, that he had no more resistance to the nexus effect than any poor human would, and so long as he thought he had beaten us...."

Picard finished the sentence. "...he would remain trapped in whatever illusion he created."

Q nodded. "But why all the theatrics with the transporter beam and the holographic doctor?"

Picard laughed delightedly, "If we had made our victory too easy, Lien would never have believed it was real. We deliberately made mistakes, because he expected us to make them."

Q joined in the laughter. "Well it worked splendidly - it seems Lien thinks he has been transported back to the continuum. And you are correct, he _will_ remain there until we can think of a way to help him return to sanity."

Kirk eyed the Q wearing his old command gold shirt. "Spock said you couldn't enter the nexus without going mad too?"

"Ah yes, your friend Spock. What a _remarkable_ being. He actually managed to convince me to risk the madness in order to retrieve you."

Kirk glanced at Picard and raised an eyebrow. "Jean-Luc, does he seem any more insane to you that usual?"

"Not especially, Jim. It _is_ rather difficult to tell."

Q managed to look suitably offended for a moment. But his infectious smile was never missing for long. He laid a consoling hand on Picard's shoulder. "It appears that the damage to the nexus did not cause Lien's insanity. Had I made the attempt myself in the first place, none of this would have happened. I apologise for my fear and ignorance."

Kirk snorted rudely, "He apologises! Terrific! Can the nexus be repaired?"

Q, eyes gleaming with merriment, stepped around Picard and stood toe to toe with Kirk. "You, Sir, tore a great big hole in the fabric of fluid time when you left. Have you never heard of using the front door?"

Kirk scowled at the Q and raised an enquiring eyebrow.

"When a member of the Q leaves the nexus, they do so through the mental image of an open door. You and Picard left by _kicking a hole in the wall_ so to speak. But... I _can_ repair it. It will take a little time, but it is possible. Now I am sure you will all be eager to return to your own realities. Take with you my deepest thanks for the parts you have all played in this matter." He turned to Picard. "I will return you to Earth Jean-Luc. I'm sure your report will be most imaginative."

Kirk grabbed Picard's arm and the Captain turned to face him. "Can you leave me out of your report, Jean-Luc? I haven't decided yet what I'm going to do, but one thing I _am_ sure of - I will _not_ be a scientific oddity in this century."

Picard clasped his friend's shoulders and squeezed. "What report? I've been on shore leave, and if I wanted Starfleet to interrupt it, I would have left a forwarding address."

Kirk, startled, smiled gratefully at the other Captain. Picard let his hands drop and took a step backwards. "I expect to see you again soon, Jim. The Universe still has plenty of uses for men like us."

Kirk nodded and walked over to where Ashan was standing. When he turned back, Picard was gone. Q clapped his hands with delight and took hold of Ashans' arm. "You will be returned to your father's home. You'll forgive me if I don't accompany you? Spock and I are not exactly on speaking terms at the moment."

Before Ashan could respond, he too had disappeared leaving Kirk alone with Q. The tall man stepped forward and regarded Kirk almost sympathetically. "You want to stay here." It was not a question, merely an observation.

Kirk did not answer for a moment. He looked around himself, at the beautiful paradise of the Garden. He remembered the compelling vision of his cabin in the mountains and the sound of an eagle's cry high overhead. When he turned back to Q, his eyes were unusually bright.

"I don't know - there's nothing for me out there, not anymore. But somehow, staying here seems like giving up." Kirk clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing. "Picard understood. He was trying to tell me that I _could_ still make a difference."

"He _is_ a most remarkable man, Kirk. I learned long ago not to underestimate him. I think you and he are very much alike. Perhaps I would enjoy interfering in the life of another such human being. It could be... fun."

Kirk gaped at Q in astonishment. Before he could answer, Q smiled cryptically and said, "Some time on Vulcan will help you make a logical decision I think. If you decide to return to the nexus, I will come for you, but somehow - I don't think I'll be seeing you again for a while."

Kirk felt a sensation of movement and suddenly he was standing in Spock's garden. The sun had just set, leaving crimson and gold streaks across the blackness of space. Kirk turned and faced the trio of people regarding him from the back door. They all looked extremely relieved to see him.


	26. The Way Forward

Seleya and Ashan were in the kitchen preparing breakfast. Kirk was alone in the garden with Spock. The Vulcan had requested two glasses of mint julep from the replicator and had placed one in Kirk's unresisting hand.

Kirk took a tentative sip of the sweet liquid and grimaced. "How could he drink this stuff?" he choked.

Spock took a long draught of the sickly beverage. "I find it most refreshing."

Kirk shrugged in a non-committal fashion. "So - Have you contacted Admiral Landsbury and filled him in on the details?"

"Indeed. He was most happy to hear of your... reincarnation."

Kirk frowned. "Why would he even care? He doesn't know me. I don't know him."

"Joshua grew up hearing tales of our adventures. He feels as if he knows you personally."

"Seems to me like everyone I meet feels that way." Kirk said uncomfortably. Living up to the title of 'living legend' had never been something Kirk was at ease with.

"In Joshua's case, the tales he heard were probably more accurate than most. His mother knew you well, Jim."

Kirk cleared his throat nervously "Oh? How well?"

"Only you could answer that. Her maiden name was Rand."

Kirk nearly choked on his drink again. Spluttering, he stared at Spock in disbelief. " _Janice_ Rand?"

The Vulcan did not try to conceal his amusement. "It would appear that some women _do_ get over you, Jim."

"More than a few Spock, more than a few. So - Janice had a son?"

"And two daughters, all of them are currently serving in Starfleet. Janice was always a remarkably skilled storyteller."

Kirk nodded in agreement. They sat in comfortable silence for a while then Kirk fixed his old friend with a piercing look. "Spock - why _did_ you agree to come back for me?"

The Vulcan carefully placed his glass on the marble table and steepled his fingers while he contemplated exactly how to answer that question. "Why did you risk your Starfleet career to come to Genesis to retrieve my body?"

"Because Sarek asked me to. He believed there was a chance to save your Katra, and I had a duty to your memory to do everything I could to help."

Spock regarded him through hooded eyes. "Those are pretty words Jim. Was not the real reason, simply that you were my friend? Sometimes, a friendship can be worth risking ones career, or even ones life for."

Kirk smiled and nodded so slightly that the Vulcan could barely discern it. He dragged the back of his hand over his eyes and shook his head "God, Spock - you're getting sentimental in your old age."

"I came for you because you are my friend. If there was a chance that you were still alive, I had to know. It was not for the good of the galaxy or the future of mankind, nor anything so noble. It was for me. And also for you. As you say, I am growing more sentimental as the years go by."

Kirk picked up his glass and held it up to Spock who lifted his own glass to the toast. "Here's to sentimentality. It's what makes the world go round."

"Gravity, and the tidal pull of the sun, makes the world go round, Jim."

Kirk grinned and raised the glass to his lips. "You have your beliefs, I have mine."

* * *

Montgomery Scott pressed the door buzzer and stepped back. He wasn't sure why he had decided to drop in on Spock before picking up his ship. They had said their farewells on Earth, but somehow, Scott could not come to Vulcan without paying his old friend another visit. And then there was the small matter of a faulty force field generator that he had promised to fix. When he made a promise - he kept it. (At least it was a good enough excuse).

The door opened and Scott gasped. For a moment, the tall, slim, dark haired Vulcan male had looked like Spock, but a very much younger Spock. Scotty got the impression that he had seen the young man before somewhere, but couldn't place him.

Recovering slightly, Scott twisted his fingers into the Vulcan formal salute. "Peace and long life, son. Ma name's Scotty. I'm looking for Mr Spock?"

As the words left his mouth, Scotty suddenly remembered where he had seen the boy. He was one of the Romulans that had shipped in with Spock.

The young man returned Scott's salute in perfect Vulcan manner. "Live long and prosper, Mr Scotty. My father is in the garden - please, come in."

Scott remained rooted to the spot. "Yer father?"

"I am Ashan, Spock's son."

Scott blinked several times then his brows drew together in a scowl, "That sly, green-blooded, devious...." Scott trailed off when he realised that the young Vulcan was looking at him with disapproval. He sighed and shook his head, "Never mind, son - lead the way."

Out in the garden, Kirk took another sip of the ice cold drink, and grimaced. He could not fathom why Spock had developed a taste for the noxious brew. Spock heard the force-field crackle and turned to look at the newcomer. The old engineer however was paused in the doorway, running his hand down the door seal, and murmuring softly, "Aye it's a crossed circuit right enough. I might need to lower your power grid ...."

Kirk stood and took up a position next to Spock.

"...or maybe I could re-route the whole matrix to...."

Scott had finally dragged his eyes from the door to look at his host. Then his eyes met Kirk's, and for once in his long life, the engineer was absolutely speechless.

"Hello, Scotty," said Kirk, smiling.

"H-hell-hello." Scott stammered, wide-eyed.

Spock pointed at a chair, "Perhaps you would care to sit down, Mr Scott?"

Without taking his eyes off Kirk, who was now smiling broadly, the shocked engineer groped for the chair, and sat down heavily. Kirk and Spock sat also, and Spock cocked an eyebrow. "Would you care for a drink?"

"Whisky - double." Scott growled.

Spock requested the finest quality double malt the replicator could produce, and watched as it materialised before the unusually mute engineer. Again, without removing his eyes from his former Captain, Scotty found the whisky, and swallowed it down in one gulp. Then said in the same monotone, "I just met yer son - ye owe me another."

Spock repeated his request, and watched in fascination as the engineer disposed of his second drink with alacrity. Scott scowled at the now empty glass, and then at Spock, then back at Kirk. He began muttering to himself, "Concussion, or maybe radiation exposure, or I could be goin' space-happy. It happens when ye spend too much time on yer own - I suppose I could be goin' senile. Then again, it's probably just a hangover. Tell me I'm just hung over, Mr Spock."

"I have no data with which to confirm or deny that statement engineer, however going on past experiences - the probability _is_ high."

Kirk laughed merrily, as he watched his former engineer fix the Vulcan with a venomous look. "Mr Scott, you old space dog, you look great!"

"Aye - so do you, sir - for a corpse!"

Spock allowed himself a small sigh, before dialling the replicator to furnish them all with a whisky. The two men looked questioning at him as the drinks materialised.

"You have a saying which seems appropriate - It's going to be a long night."

* * *

Many hours later, when 40 Eridani had sunk below the horizon, in a spectacular sunset rivalled nowhere else in the Galaxy, the three old friends sat in comfortable silence, each consumed with their own thoughts. They had moved inside when the sky darkened, and the first bright pinpricks of light begun to pierce the velvet night.

Seleya had lit the huge open fire in the grate, then left them to their silence. Scott glanced up from his contemplation of the dancing flames, in time to notice the strange look Spock was giving Kirk. The Vulcan's eyes met the engineer's, and they seemed to say - _I am worried about him._

Scott nodded slightly in agreement, and then noisily cleared his throat to break the pensive mood. "So, Captain - dae ye have any plans?"

Kirk glanced up at Spock, who was suddenly fascinated with his own fingernails. The Captain pulled himself to his feet, and went to look out of the window, at the glittering night sky.

Spock watched the back of his Captain's head, and when Jim failed to answer, Spock said, "I believe that Captain Kirk is contemplating re-entering the nexus."

Kirk wheeled round, and advanced on Spock, his eyes reflecting the fires' brilliance. "Am I Spock? My life is not over yet. Just because I don't wear braid on my sleeves, doesn't mean I can't make a difference anymore does it?"

"I agree. Never-the-less - my original statement stands."

Kirk firmly clasped his hands behind his back, and began pacing the living room. "Okay, Okay - I'll admit it. The thought _has_ crossed my mind. I feel as if I'm drowning in this century. Everything is so different and I hardly know anyone."

"You know me, and Engineer Scott, and...."

"Spock - we both know that you have a job to do. You've made it your life's work to re-unify your people, and that means eventually you'll be going back to Rihannsu."

Kirk turned beseeching eyes on his friend "I'm ancient history in this century Spock. I said I could make a difference, but how? I don't even know how to fire a Goddamned phaser."

"You can learn. Mr Scott did," said Spock reasonably.

Kirk glanced at Scotty, who was sitting quietly, staring into his half-empty glass.

Spock stood slowly and laid his hand onto Kirk's shoulder. "Consider it a challenge. There are always possibilities."

Seleya, who had been standing in the doorway, stepped forward. "Captain Kirk - the Universe it a very vast place. Somewhere out there, trouble waits for you. I have faith that you will find it, or it will find you. Either way, your future has yet to be written. Do not close the book so soon." She stepped into the room and came to stand next to Spock. "Besides - my husband went to a great deal of trouble to get you out of the Nexus - I would consider it a personal insult if you returned to it. And Romulans are well known for holding grudges."

Kirk stared at Spock's wife silently. His growing affection for the woman had just doubled.

Scott thumped his glass down loudly on the table. "Captain - I'll be leaving in the morning. There are still a few places in this vast universe that this old relic hasn't seen. Would ye care to accompany me?"

Three pairs of eyes snapped round to focus on the engineer. Kirk looked questioningly at Spock who raised an eyebrow.

"Logical."


	27. Plotted and Laid In

  


Ashan found his mother in the kitchen. She was preparing supplies of fresh food for the two travellers. She noted his puzzled expression and knew from experience, that he had questions to ask.

She sealed the container of freshly cooked Plomeek soup and turned to him. "You are troubled, my son."

"I don't understand, mother."

"Don't understand what?"

Ashan began distractedly loading the dishwasher unit as he spoke, as if he needed physical activity to hide his unsettled feelings. "Kirk. Why did he come after me? Why did he risk his life to save me? I made my feelings towards him more than clear."

"You are the son of his best friend, Ashan. As a Romulan, you must understand honour and loyalty?"

"Of course I do mother. But he risked so much - He has been close to my father for years, but he had only just met me. I didn't make it easy for him, but he kept on trying. It's almost like risk were _nothing_ to him."

"No - not nothing, merely something that comes with the job. When one lives with danger every day of one's life - it becomes easier to face. Kirk has faced many risks in his life with great courage, as has your father. In fact he once _died_ whilst trying to save Kirk and his crew."

Ashan gasped. "He _what?_ "

"It is a very long story, Ashan. Kirk disobeyed direct orders from Starfleet, stole his ship from spacedock, and went to retrieve Spock's body. Once back on Vulcan, his Katra was reinstated and he breathed again.

The point is - They both understood mnhei'sahe - Spock died to save Kirk and Kirk risked his career to save his friend. A few days ago, your father faced the one thing he is most afraid of - madness, in order to save Kirk from the nexus. Each of these two men, have risked _everything_ for each other, many times.

You don't know this, but Kirk once had a son. He was not involved in the child's upbringing, and David harboured a great deal of animosity towards his father. Eventually they reconciled their differences, but shortly after Spock died, David was murdered by a Klingon, and Kirk's ship was destroyed. He wasn't able to save his best friend or his ship, but worst of all - he couldn't save his own son. He lived with the guilt for many years. So you see - Kirk would rather have died in the Forge, than bring Spock your corpse. He could not let his friend suffer the same pain. Do you understand?"

Ashan tried to imagine what it would be like to loose so much all at the same time. A lesser man would be excused for giving up on life, but he had come to know that Kirk never gave up. "I think so," he said hesitantly, thinking it all through. "Kirk engenders much trust in the people whom he calls friend. He has a great deal of respect for my father."

Seleya nodded. "Respect that you father worked very hard to earn. Ashan, Spock's place has always been among the stars. I would never ask him to give that up, but it has been very hard on you."

"I always thought he didn't care about me. I'm truly sorry that we are not closer."

"Perhaps in time...?" she asked hopefully.

"I _would_ like to understand him better." Ashan turned to face her. "Mother, would you mind leaving me alone for a while? I've got a lot to think about."

"I don't doubt that, my son. I have confidence that you will reach the right decision."

As she walked away, Ashan followed her with troubled eyes. What decision was she talking about?

  


* * *

"Well Spock - I guess this is it." Kirk stood awkwardly at the front door of Spocks' house, not sure what else he could say or do. Their preparations were complete and there was no reason to stay longer.

Scott glanced at both men then gently took the duffel bag from his Captain's fingers and squeezed past him. "I'll load the car."

Kirk smiled fondly. Trust Scotty to be diplomatic when it counted most. They stood in silence for a moment then both tried to talk at the same time.

"Spock...."

"Jim...."

They trailed off into silence again. When it came right down to it, there were no words either of them could use to make their parting any easier.

Ashan came out of his bedroom and watched the two men looking at each other. Their sorrow was tangible, and touched the young man deeply. He had never considered that his father might have feelings until recently, and now had cause to regret having made the discovery.

As his mother had predicted, he had made his decision, one that might hurt his father, and he regretted having to do that. Clearing his throat, he spoke from the other end of the hall, "Father, Do you intend to return to Rihannsu?"

Spock turned and frowned in puzzlement, " Of course - as soon as it is safe to do so."

Ashan saw his mother standing behind Spock. "Mother?"

"My place is at your father's side. As it has always been."

Just then, Mr Scott appeared at the front door, and scanned the expectant faces. The tension in the air was quite noticeable. Ashan nodded, and walked slowly over to his father. When he was within arms reach, he looked up and sighed, "I won't be going back with you, father. My place is no longer on Rihannsu."

Spock cleared his suddenly dry throat, but his voice held no trace of emotion. This was the moment he had been dreading. "What do you intend to do?"

Ashan did not flinch from his father's diamond bright gaze. "Father - I'm sorry. I cannot choose the same path as you did. I doubt that my nature will ever allow me to become a Vulcan. Captain Kirk has taught me some of what it is to be human, and I am no longer ashamed to have Terran blood. I think I would relish the chance to explore the human aspects of my heritage more fully."

Spock's eyes seemed to flicker. His expression hinted almost at relief, "As a being of several worlds, my son, your path _must_ be a unique one. Only you can choose."

"You would not force your own choice on me?"

Spock allowed a small smile to form at the corner of his mouth. Although he would not influence his son's choice in any way, he had a feeling that the boy had reached the same conclusion as he had. His voice betrayed a touch of amusement. "You are not a child, and I am not my father. Whatever you choose to do, your mother and I will be... proud of you."

Ashan's eyes flew to his mother's face. Even Seleya showed her surprise but neither Kirk nor Scott so much as blinked. Ashan took one step nearer so that he was almost toe to toe with his father. "And I want you to know - that I am proud to be your son."

This time, Kirk did react. His hand shot up to cover his mouth and his eyes blinked several times at the painfully familiar words.

Spock, being Spock, merely nodded. "There are many options open to you. As I noted once before - it's a big universe."

"And I want to see it all, father."

This time, Spock did lay his hand gently on his son's shoulder. He allowed his mental shields to drop completely, and was nearly swamped by the younger man's excitement and joy. It was not entirely unpleasant.

"If you truly wish to explore the human aspects of your persona, I can think of no better teachers than Kirk and Scott."

Kirk frowned in confusion at his friend, but a slow smile had begun to spread over the engineer's face. "What do you say, Captain? The Nova is plenty big enough for three. Could we use a navigator?"

Kirk looked long and hard at his old friend. "If the boy wants to come..."

Ashan was smiling now. "Of _course_ I want to come. I'm 17 years old, and I've never met a Ferengi or a Klingon or... well anyone interesting. But there is one condition, Captain Kirk - you must promise _never_ to hit me in the nose again."

"Can't promise that, son" Kirk grinned devilishly. "You might get infected by strange alien spores, or a water based virus or...."

"Jim," Spock interrupted, "part of the fun is in finding out for yourself."

And they all laughed - except Spock who merely inclined his head and raised an eyebrow. Ashan hurried off to pack followed by his mother, and Scott excused himself again, leaving the two friends alone in the hallway.

Kirk took Spock's shoulders and squeezed gently. "I'll look after your son as if he were my own boy."

Spock favoured his old friend with one of his rare and precious smiles and replied, "I suggested that Ashan accompany you on your voyages, so that _he_ could look after _you_."

Kirk merely smiled a knowing smile. "Whatever you say Spock."

  


* * *

Seleya leaned on the doorjamb, arms crossed tightly, and expression grim. Ashan would not look at her, instead he moved gracefully from one storage unit to another, selecting only what he considered to be essential clothing. As he dumped a pile of clothes onto the bed, an old, faded strip of white material slithered out and fell onto the floor. Ashan stared at it. Seleya stepped forward and delicately retrieved the T'riellirov.

It was tradition, that after the birth of a baby, a strip was cut from the bed sheets, which the mother would then embroider with the child's initials, and other relevant information. The T'riellirov was then kept by the mother until the child's 12th birthday, when it was presented to them during the ceremony in which they received their fourth name. The material could be worn around the neck, underneath the clothing, and was considered a lucky talisman.

Seleya carefully folded the piece of material three times, and handed it to him. Ashan did not meet her eyes as he took the material. He was remembering the day he had received it. He had been angry, for as usual, his father was absent.

The Naming ceremony was one of the most important events in a young Rihannsu's life, he had thought that for this at least, his father would make the effort. He had chosen his son's fourth name, as was traditional, but of course he had not come. Another nail had been hammered into the coffin that was their relationship.

He felt a wash of shame flood over him as he recalled those feeling now. How could he have so misjudged the man, and how could he have harboured such feeling of hatred towards the Terrans? In the past three days alone he had come to respect these people more than any other living creatures - except for his mother.

He met her eyes now, and saw that they gleamed with unshed tears. She would not let them fall. Not until he was gone. He gently laid his hand on her cheek, and she covered it with her own. "Mother - my fourth name - I understand now."

"You know what it means?"

"I used father's computer - literally translated into Vulcan it means Sarek. He named me for his own father, didn't he?"

"If you have learned anything about Spock's father, you will know what a great honour he afforded you."

Ashan nodded then smiled a little slyly. "I also looked up the translation of Ashan."

"It does not translate into Vulcan," she said.

"No, but in Standard - it means James."

Seleya's eyebrows rose in genuine surprise. She had not known that. Spock had chosen his son's first name without ever seeing the boy. Although the name was unusual, Seleya had liked the sound of it well enough. Ashan let his hand drop and walked to the window.

From here he could see the sand garden which had been re-raked into its perfect symmetry, not a stone or grain of sand out of place. He turned and held out his hand to her and she joined him at the window.

"The sand garden is representative of the Universe, with a place for everything within it. Order must be maintained, or the result is chaos. How can I make a decision regarding my own place in the Universe without knowing who I am first? I _must_ do this mother. I must learn where I fit in, but I am sorry that I did not consult with you. My decision must have been a shock to you"

She took his face between her hands and tipped his head forward to kiss his forehead gently. "My son, you did not consult me the day you made your entrance into this world three weeks early. You did not consult me when you brought home the injured Tar-lirn you found in the desert when you were five and you did not consult me when you chose your third name. Even as a child, you made your own decisions. I would have been surprised if you _had_ consulted with me first. I am not offended or hurt by this - but I am afraid."

"I imagine that most mothers feel this way when their only son leaves home for the first time."

She smiled gently. "Most mother's only sons do not fly off into the unknown with James T Kirk. That one is all fire - it burns like a furnace within him and it immolates those around him."

"No mother - Kirk's fire only immolates his enemies, it merely warms those who are lucky enough to be called his friend. I would be honoured to be among those few."

She nodded and took the strip of material from his fingers. Unfolding it carefully she reached up and placed it around his neck. "You must wear it always. Any man who is a friend of James T Kirk, needs all the luck he can get."

  


* * *

"Federation Runabout _Nova Scotia_ \- you are clear, and free to navigate, and from all of Vulcan - farewell."

Scott turned in his chair and looked at Kirk. "Course, Captain?"

Kirk shook his head gratefully, "She's your ship, Mr Scott."

Scott turned back to the helm and smiled broadly "Aye - she's mine alright, just like the Enterprise was mine and every engineer in the fleet considers their ships to be their very own. But a ship can only have one Captain."

He looked at Kirk out of the corner of his eye "Come on, Jim, the boy wants to see the Universe - what do you say?"

Kirk took a deep breath and let it out slowly "Very well, Mr Scott, set a course for - the Universe."

He looked out at the starscape beckoning from forward viewport. "Lets go where no-one's gone before."

"Aye sir - course plotted and laid in."

  


**Author's Note:**

> This was the first piece of fiction I ever wrote. It's been proof read, but not really posted anywhere for fans to read. (Although its been on my website for over a year, I haven't advertised it online anywhere so it's had no hits.) I'm not really part of the ST online fandom, so wouldn't have had a clue where to post! Anyway, I'm putting it up here in the hopes that someone might want to read it. It's long - a full novel's worth of fic!


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